Stretching the Truth
by TheDevilYouDon't
Summary: Harry and Hermione are sick of Ginny and Ron shoving their relationships in their faces. So, when Hermione gets the idea for them to pretend to date, Harry agrees. Because, it's only pretend, right? H/Hr. HBP.
1. 1

_Friday, year six, Gryffindor Common Room, twenty feet from the enemy._

Hermione glares across the room, staring directly past Harry to do so, and sighs loudly into the air around her. The fire nearby crackles loudly and the few people that are left in the common room—and awake enough to hear it—jump and look at the fireplace nervously. Her companion, noticing her glare for the first time in the past five minutes it has been set on her face, frowns at her expression and attempts to snap his fingers in her face.

Which, of course, doesn't help.

In fact, she doesn't even look up at him until he says, "Hermione?" loudly and very near to her ear.

"What?" she asks, looking up at him in confusion.

"What are you staring at?"

"Nothing."

He turns then and looks in the same direction she's just turned from, shaking his head when he spots Ron and Lavender snogging on an armchair in the corner of the room. "Oh, really? 'Cause that doesn't seem like nothing."

"It doesn't, does it?" She looks at him in exasperation and slams her Potions book closed. "Why do they insist on making such a public display about it, though? It's not as though we've all asked for tickets."

He nods. "I get it, Hermione, I do. Why are you so upset, though? Is it because Ron's kissing someone or is it because Ron's kissing someone that isn't you?"

She tilts her head up in an attempt to look indifferent and looks away from him. "It's neither, of course," she lies and he shakes his head at her and rolls his eyes.

"Sure."

"Don't say it like that," she orders, giving him an admonishing look.

"Like what?"

"Like you don't believe me."

"I didn't say it any particular way."

"Please, Harry. I've known you for six years."

"And?"

"I do believe I'd know if you said something in a certain way."

"Would you though?"

"Yes."

"Sure."

"There you go again!"

He shrugs and sends another glance at Ron before settling his eyes on the base of the stairs to the girls' dormitories for a moment.

"What are _you_ staring at?" Hermione asks for a moment, but Harry doesn't answer. She follows his eyes in time to see Ginny giving Dean a kiss goodnight before trotting up the stairs happily. She doesn't say anything else, but, when Harry turns his gaze back to her, she quirks an eyebrow at him and silently questions him with a stare.

"What?"

"You know what."

"You sure about that?"

She shakes her head before beginning to gather her books into her bag. As she does, a thought strikes her—making her head spin and her heart pound at the shear ridiculousness of the whole things _(whatever put thoughts like that into her head, anyway?)_—and she pauses for a moment. "You know," she starts, but cuts herself short.

Why would he need to know such a silly thought anyway?

"What?" he asks when she doesn't continue.

She shrugs simply and fastens her bag. "Nothing."

Harry shakes his head at her and moves a little closer. "When did starting a sentence and not finishing it become nothing? Come on, 'Mione. Tell me."

She looks at him—up and down with her eyes in a sweeping motion—before looking away and trying to contain her blush. "It _is _nothing. Just the most ridiculous thought I believe I've had," she admits.

"And what was it?" he questions, a smirk appearing on his face at the mere thought of what might be running through her head.

"Are you sure you want to know?" _Please say no,_ she silently begs, hoping that, if not he, then at least some sort of God hears her.

"Yes," he says, and her stomach sinks with his answer.

Sighing, she leans forward on her elbows and prepares herself for this. After another moment of silence, Hermione opens her mouth to speak.

**There's the first chapter—finally, right? Sorry, been a bit busy. FYI: the reason why it ends there is because I'm posting the second chapter tomorrow. **

**Feel free to tell me if you're interested yet.**


	2. 2

_Monday, year six, outside the Great Hall, distance from the enemy TBD._

"So what's the plan?"

"Harry, you _know_ the plan."

"Remind me."

Hermione ducks her head into the Great Hall for a moment, quickly seeking out Ron. He sits at the Gryffindor table with Lavender, chuckling as she playfully feeds him bites of porridge. After another moment of searching, her eyes land on Ginny and Dean who are doing, what appear to be, Snape impressions.

Rolling her eyes she draws her head out and looks at Harry. "They're in there all right."

"Of course they are," he tells her, giving her a stare that seemingly asks why she's the smart one. "It's breakfast. Now, remind me of the plan, if you would?"

"Be subtle."

"That tells me next to nothing."

"Oh, _please_. You know the plan already; we've been over it a hundred times."

"Exaggeration."

"Maybe a little. But, still, you know it by heart as I do. We walk in there, subtly holding hands—just enough to make them notice—but we have to break apart the moment they see us, or else it'll be no good," she reminds him, one hand placed on her hip.

"Is that all?"

"No. How does Ron act when he's around Lavender?" she asks.

"Um, I don't know." He thinks for a moment before smiling a bit and looking at her. "He sort of shows off a lot, you know? Always trying to make her laugh."

Hermione nods and grins at him. "Right, so do that."

"Show off?"

"Well, sure, but try to be funny. I'll be sure to laugh more loudly than usual."

"Why? I'm not that funny."

"You do realize that most girls don't laugh at what you say, right?"

"Then why are they laughing?"

"They're not laughing because you're funny, Harry," she tells him, surprised that he hasn't figured it out yet. "They're laughing because you're cute."

"So you'll be laughing because I'm cute?" He gives her a confused look and adjusts his bag on his shoulder, hoping that she doesn't notice the blush that has begun to appear on his cheeks.

She nods. "That's what we want them to think, anyway." Turning, she glances into the Great Hall again before looking at her companion. "Ready?"

He shrugs. "As I ever will be, I suspect," he tells her, but he leaves out the part where the butterflies erupt in his stomach and silently takes her hand, lacing their fingers together carefully.

They walk into the Great Hall, pressed closely together, both glad that the majority of their classmates ignore their approach. Others, however, make surprised faces and turn to one another, whispering quietly among themselves and Harry shakes his head a bit because, by noon, the whole school—teachers included—will know about this.

Ron, Ginny, Lavender, and Dean all look up as they walk over and Harry and Hermione quickly break apart. Lavender smiles at the sight and gives Hermione a look that promises many questions later. Dean smirks and winks at Harry who coughs and suddenly becomes very interested in his shoes. Ginny and Ron, however, seem completely oblivious to what had been going on and continue eating.

"Morning. What took you two so long to get here?" Ron asks, mouth full of toast.

Lavender grins at both of them and says vaguely, "I'm sure they were a little busy."

Dean blushes at this and looks away while Ginny just looks confused. "Whatever. You should probably hurry and eat; classes start in 20 minutes."

Seeing his opportunity, Harry smirks a bit at Hermione and says, "If you're expecting us to have finished eating in 20 minutes, you might want to think again. Only Ron could ever eat that fast."

Just as she'd promised Hermione giggles loudly at this—far too loudly for such a dumb joke—and he smiles and feigns pride as he sticks his chest out a bit.

"Harry," Ginny starts, giving him an odd look as Lavender looks at him, clearly put-out by the joke. "Are you feeling alright?"

He shrugs and takes his seat, pulling a few pieces of toast onto his plate. "Never better."

**:::**

**:::**

"To answer your question, Mr. Thomas, there is not a shred of actual proof that ambrosia exists. The myths are based on what Greeks believed long ago," Professor Snape says in a dull tone that grates Harry's nerve and makes him wince.

He turns his head and smiles at Hermione from the other side of Ron. She smiles at him and turns her head away, giggling quietly to herself. Ron looks up at the exchange and makes a face at his best mate before shrugging and resting his eyes in the direction of Lavender again.

"Mr. Potter," Snape said suddenly and Harry sighed and looked up to meet his professor's eyes.

"Yes, sir?"

"Would you please try to refrain from flirting on my time and save it for after class?"

Hermione blushes to herself and Ron looks at her oddly, shaking his head. Harry even feels the heat rising in his cheeks as he nods and turns his eyes away. Snape snarls and turns back to Dean, who now looks very afraid to be the object of Snape's attention.

**:::**

**:::**

"What was that about?" Ron asks the moment they step out of the classroom, clearly trying to figure his best friends out.

Harry shrugs and shakes his head. "No idea."

Ron gives him an exasperated look and turns his eyes to Hermione, hoping, in vain, that she will provide more information. She only mimics Harry and shrugs in answer. Sighing loudly, the redhead picks up his pace and quickly leaves them behind on his way to Transfiguration.

Looking at Hermione, Harry smiles and offers his hand. She grins and slaps it with her own in a congratulatory high five. "Nice work back there, Potter," she says with an even wider grin.

He feigns nonchalance and says, "Same to you, Granger. Us; one. Weasleys; zero."

She gives him an amused look. "Are we talking in code about beating them, now?" she asks.

"Well, we can't be very obvious, now can we?"

"No. That wouldn't do."

"That wouldn't do at all."

_Monday, year six, in the corridors. Let the games begin._

**I hope that will make you happy for a few days. Took me long enough.**


	3. 3

**A/N: I figured I'd better update this before I woke up with an angry mob at my door. Happy Christmas, by the way. After posting this, I'm going to start work on the next chapter. I hope to have it up before I go out of town this week.**

**:::**

_Friday night, year six, the library, whereabouts of enemies unknown._

He finds her in the library. She's pouring over books like, if she doesn't she might very well cease to exist and he has to touch her shoulder in order to get her attention.

"What do you-?" She cuts herself off when she looks up at him, smiling sheepishly. "Oh…Harry. Hi…"

He nods. "Hey. What are you doing?"

"Trying to finish my Potions essay," she tells him, turning back to her books.

"Well," he starts, sitting down in the chair beside her. "It's almost 9 and I would very much like to go back to the Common Room before I turn twenty."

"Why can't you go back without me?"

"We _are_ trying to convince people there's something going on between us aren't we?"

"Of course."

"Well, it would seem a bit suspicious if both of us were spotted missing this late on a weekend night and we were to arrive separately."

She looks up at him then, like he's finally making some sense. She sighs and closes the large book in front of her before getting to her feet. "Alright," she surrenders in a tired voice.

They walk back to the Gryffindor tower after she's gathered her things and put away the books she'd been using. Harry stops in front of the portrait hole and opens his mouth to say the password.

"Palladi—" he starts to say, but Hermione stops him quickly, her hand coming to rest on his arm.

"Wait, hang on." The hand on his shoulder goes up, disappearing into his hair.

"What are you doing?" His eyes go wide and search her face for an explanation for why her hand is buried in his hair.

"Messing up your hair," she says simply, fingers running through his hair, making it stand up more than usual.

"Why?"

"We're arriving late on a weekend night together, just like you said. Shouldn't it look like we've been a little preoccupied?"

He smirks at her and she removes her hand from his hair when it looks satisfactory, dropping it back down to her side. "You don't miss a beat, do you?" She shakes her head and smiles right back. "Shouldn't…you…?" He nods at her hair and she has to think for a moment and try to figure out what it is he means.

"Oh," she sighs, getting it. "Yeah. Sure."

He lifts both of his hands and uses his fingers to tease her hair out in all different directions. When he's satisfied, he presses his fingers to her lips and pushes on them harder than he's comfortable with. She gives him an odd look and makes as if to pull away, but he shakes his head. "It'll make them look bruised—like they've spent all night pressing up against someone else's lips." He pulls his fingers from her lips a minute later and presses them on his own, pushing down harder than he did on her. As he does, she reaches up and loosens his tie and untucks his shirt.

"Ready?" she asks when they both look strategically disheveled.

"Ready." He looks up at the fat lady, whose eyes have been half-closed in a sleepy daze for quite some time, and says, "Palladium."

She opens immediately and Harry and Hermione stumble into the Common Room. When the portrait hole opens and closes, several of the people that sit around by themselves or in small groups look up to see who it is that entered. Those with companions, upon seeing the pair of disheveled sixth years, turn to their friends and they all begin to discuss this immediately. Harry grins at Hermione and starts to say something, but is cut off by Ron's voice from across the room.

"There you are!" They look over and see him sitting in an armchair with Lavender on his lap, Ginny sitting in the chair beside him, reading through a book. He waves them over and they oblige, making sure to walk more closely than they might have a week or two ago. "Been looking for you two all night," Ron says once they've approached fully. "Where've you been?"

Lavender takes in the sight of them and smirks to herself before flicking her gaze from one to the other. "Been busy, have you?"

Hermione involuntarily blushes and presses into Harry's side a little. "Just been—"

"—studying!" Harry finishes for her, looking frazzled as his eyes turn to Ron. "Homework and all that. Sorry for going missing for a little bit."

Lavender looks at them suspiciously, and even Ginny furrows her brow at their behavior. Hermione fights the urge to smile at the progress she and Harry have made and bites her lip. "Yes, that's right. Been studying all night."

"I'm sure," Lavender says coyly, stroking Ron's arm.

"So, if you don't mind, we're just gonna…go to bed." Harry turns to look at Hermione and she gives a tiny nod that tells him that this is an okay thing to say. "Good night."

They head away from the small group, who immediately begin to discuss the last few minutes once they're out of earshot, and move towards the staircases.

"Good work, Granger," Harry whispers and holds out his hand, hiding it a bit behind his leg.

Hermione smiles and quickly slaps her own hand against his. "Same to you, Potter."

"See you tomorrow?"

"Of course."

They share a smile again before going up their separate staircases for the night.

_Friday night, year six, Gryffindor Common Room, all-in._

**:::**

**For those of you that don't know, all-in is a phrase from poker. Look it up if you don't already know the definition.**

**Palladium is the wooden statue that fell from the sky and into the Greek city of Troy. As long as that statue was in the city, they couldn't lose a battle.**


	4. 4

**A/N: Here's the fourth chapter. Just for you. Thanks, by the way, for all of the awesome feedback. You guys really are fantastic. **

**Also, if you would, could you read the note at the end when you've finished this chapter and respond? It would be greatly appreciated. Those who do will get an honorable mention in the next chapter.**

_Saturday evening, year six, Gryffindor Common Room, directly beside enemy._

"What's going on with you and Hermione?"

Harry looks up from his charms essay, startled. "Huh?"

"You and Hermione," Ron repeats, looking at him from the other end of the couch. "What's going on between you?"

He shakes his head and pulls out his wand to erase an ink blot on his piece of parchment. "What makes you think something's going on?"

Ron shrugs and flips through old notes absently. "Just seems like something's going on, is all."

"How so?"

"I dunno…You've been spending a lot of time together, haven't you?"

"How is that different than normal?" Harry asks, hiding the smile he makes when he thinks of how Hermione will react when he tells her about this conversation later.

"You seem…closer. Always happy. And you've been touching a lot lately. I dunno. Sorta seems like there's something going on."

Harry slips his wand back into his pocket, ink blot completely gone, and looks over at his friend. "Would it bother you if something _was _going on?" he asks quietly.

Ron looks at him and meets his eyes, stopping for a few minutes so he can think through his answer. Looking away, he says, "Of course not. No way," but Harry can hear the hesitation in his voice.

"Okay."

"You'd tell me if there was anything going on, wouldn't you? I mean…it's you and Hermione."

Harry looks away, always playing his part in their scheme, and chooses not to answer.

**:::  
>:::<strong>

Hermione meets him in Myrtle's bathroom later that night, and immediately asks him about any progress he's made during the day.

"Ron's getting suspicious," he tells her, a smile breaking out on his face.

Her eyes widen. "Really?"

"Yeah. He was asking me if there was anything going on between us. I asked him if it would bother him if there _was_ something going on and he hesitated when he answered."

She seems pleased by this answer and returns the smile he still has on his face. "What did you tell him when he asked if there was anything going on?"

"I didn't answer." He shrugs and she takes a step closer, grabbing his sleeve when she can't contain her giddiness.

"You know what this means right?" she asks and he shakes his head. "We're ready."

He swallows hard and looks over her face for a moment. "Are you sure?"

Hermione nods and moves the hand holding his sleeve a little closer to his palm. "Yes. I've been thinking it over for quite some time and I believe I've come up with the way to do it." She pauses for dramatic effect and he widens his eyes in anticipation. "I'm going to pull a Lavender."

Silence. "A what?"

"A Lavender," she repeats and he makes a face.

"Um…'Mione? I think you may have lost it….What's a Lavender?"

"Remember how Ron and Lavender got together?"

He nods. "She kissed him at the victory party."

"Of course. Well, you have a Quidditch match next weekend. Whether or not you guys win, I'll grab you and kiss you in front of everyone." She smirks, clearly proud of this plan while he sputters to find words. "What?" she asks a few moments later, when he's still looking over her face.

"And you're not joking?" She shakes her head. "Not loony?" Another headshake. "Alright," he resigns, grabbing the hand of hers she has on his wrist. "Are we going to practice?"

She considers this for a moment before she turns a bright red color and shrugs. "Do you think the night of the match should be the first time?"

He nods. "Well, it wasn't like Lavender practiced what she would be doing, after all."

"You're right," she says finally, sighing, and he squeezes her hand before sending a grin her way. "What is it this time?"

"You said I was right." 

"Yeah. So…?"

"Hermione Granger, is that the first time you've ever told someone else they were right?"

Unable to take his cheeky smile, she shakes her head and forces a frown. "Of course not. That's absurd. I say it…all the…I say it all the time."

"It is, isn't it?"

"No…yes…" He smiles even wider and she bites her lip angrily. "Stop looking so happy about it."

"Fine." He smiles at her for a few more moments before nodding behind them at the door of the restroom. "We should get back. It's getting late."

"Sure."

He laces their fingers together and opens up the door, propping it that way as she hurries out. Hands still together, he lets the door close and starts them down the corridor.

"Can I ask you a question?" he says after a minute of silent walking.

She looks up at him and shrugs. "Go ahead."

"How did saying I was right taste coming out of your mouth?"

She looks at his smirk and fights the urge to jinx it off. "Like venom," she answers quickly, turning to watch the floor spread out before them.

Harry laughs. "I thought it might."

"Shut it."

_Saturday evening, year six, corridor, commence countdown._

**There you go. The match is coming up. Yay.**

**Also, a friend of mine has been rewriting the Harry Potter movies for a few years so that they're Harry/Hermione and Ron/OC. The OC character is actually Harry's fraternal twin, who shares the burden of Voldemort's wrath. It's actually pretty awesome. I told her I'd ask if you guys would be interested in her posting it on this website. So, if you leave a comment _(please do, so that you can tell me what you thought of this chapter) _could you also mention if you would interested in reading that?**

**Thanks so much.**


	5. 5

**A/N: I think I very well might have the best reviewers of all time. You guys rock! Seriously. Keep up the awesome reviews. :D**

**In honor of your amazing attitude towards leaving me plenty of nice reviews, I've made this chapter longer. I'll also post a thank-you to everyone who answered my question from the last chapter at the end. C: **

**So, without further ado, we have arrived on the day of the Quidditch match. **

**-deep breath- Here we go.**

**:::**

**:::**

_Saturday morning, year six, corridors by Great Hall, enemies at breakfast._

_Stop,_ Hermione thinks silently for what must be the hundredth time that morning. _Just stop it already. _But her blush doesn't listen. Instead, it grows even brighter on her face when Harry's hand brushes hers again. _If you can't handle a little hand brush every now and then, how are you going to behave when we'll be snogging every time we're in public?_

The blush deepens a bit and she veers her feet so that there are a few more inches between them.

"Hermione?" he asks quietly and she glances up at him. "Are you okay?" She nods, but he doesn't look convinced. "Hey, listen…" He stops walking and places his hands on her upper arms. "It's just me, okay?" He smiles at her a bit and she returns it, glad that everyone else is at breakfast already, leaving the hallways empty. "Just Harry. Alright?"

She locks eyes with him and nods slowly, taking a deep breath to calm herself. "Alright."

They start walking again, this time holding hands—more for themselves than for convincing others of something going on. When they reach the doors to the Great Hall, they pause for a moment, Harry squeezing her hand gently before releasing it and leading the way in. Breathing deeply again, Hermione follows a few moments later.

Ron's already eating when they arrive. His cheeks are stuffed with food and one of his arms is around Lavender, who is having a rather colorful conversation about him with Parvati. Ginny sips her orange juice from across her brother and watches the show, occasionally saying something in a whisper to Dean, who chuckles at her comments from his seat beside her. They look up when Harry and Hermione arrive, greeting them each before turning back to their breakfast.

"Morning," Harry says as he sits down on Ron's free side. Hermione sits across from, on Ginny's other side, and says the same before setting a piece of toast on her plate and picking at it with a fork.

"You ready for today, mate?" Ron asks around a mouthful of food.

Harry shrugs and scoops some eggs onto his plate. "I suppose so. Have to be don't I?" Ron accepts his answer and begins to talk about the match ahead of them immediately, not noticing that Harry isn't listening to a word of it. Instead, Harry's eyes are glued to Hermione from across the table. "You gonna eat or pick at the food instead?" he asks in a quiet voice, hoping that the others will know not to join in.

Hermione looks up and frowns. "I'm not really hungry," she answers simply, pushing the plate back a little. This is, in reality, the simplest way of saying that she is so nervous, any food eaten might very well come back up.

He mirrors her frown and slides his feet over to hers underneath the table. Gently, he rests his ankles against hers, brushing their knees together. "I know what you mean," he tells her, because he does.

She shrugs and stares down at the tabletop when he starts eating, trying to teach herself not to think of anything at all.

**:::**

**:::**

_Early Saturday afternoon, year six, Gryffindor stands, exact distance from enemy unknown._

"Isn't this brilliant?" Neville asks, leaning down into her ear and speaking loudly enough to penetrate the cheer of the students around them. "We're leading by a hundred!"

Unable to find her words, Hermione just looks up at him and smiles, nodding a little. "Brilliant," she mutters, knowing what winning will mean for the Common Room in a few hours. Apparently, it will be less of _pulling _a Lavender, and more of mimicking her completely.

Her eyes move towards the air around the pitch and she immediately finds Harry. His head darts around quickly, eyes following something she can't see, before he starts his broom towards the stands on the opposite of the pitch. His broom zips down behind the stands and, just before he disappears from sight, she sees his arm outstretch.

She bites her lip and watches the stands he disappeared behind nervously. Finally, a few moments later, he darts back up, hand held over his head.

"And it's over!" the commentator announces excitedly. "Potter's caught the snitch! Gryffindor wins!"

Neville cheers even louder from beside her and, before she can clearly understand what's happening, arms wrap around her from the side. She turns her head a bit only to get a tiny peek of Lavender's face buried in her coat.

"We won!" Lavender squeaks, arms still held around Hermione firmly. "We won!"

"I know," Hermione manages, making a face and trying to think of the best possible way—outside of murder—to get Lavender off of her. Rolling her eyes, she looks towards the pitch again, where the players are cheering and hugging each other from their brooms. She finds Harry again as he flies a little closer, so that he's less than 20 yards from where she's standing. He sees her and smiles, a bright white smile that might hurt her eyes were it sunnier, waving. She smiles back and tries to lift her arms, only to remember that Lavender is pinning them to her sides. Harry makes a face at Lavender's hug and she laughs.

When her laugh fades, she remembers the next step of their plan, and a frown quickly replaces her smile.

**:::**

**:::**

_Saturday evening, year six, Gryffindor Common room (victory party), whereabouts of enemy TBD._

"How do they get all of this food?"

Hermione looks up at Neville. "They steal it."

"From where?"

"The kitchens."

"Oh. I didn't know students were allowed in the kitchens."

"They technically aren't."

She's hiding in the corner with Neville, trying not to make it seem like she's hiding at all. The team has yet to arrive, but she knows that it will only be a matter of time—a matter of time before they show up, a matter of time before someone makes a speech, a matter of time before her lips will be pressed against Harry's.

She swallows and takes a large swig of butterbeer.

"Something wrong?" Neville asks, frowning and looking worried.

She smiles because he might be one of the last good guys left. Him and Harry.

_Harry._

She frowns again and takes another swig. Halfway through her drink, the team finally arrives, cheering and whooping as they make their way through the portrait hole, and, being her ever so skillful self, she chokes.

"Merlin, Hermione!" Playing the role of one of the last good guys left, Neville hits her in the back hard, and she feels her lungs clear, able to swallow again—all of this goes unnoticed by the people around them, who are far too busy yelling and clapping for the Gryffindor team.

When she gets her breath back, she fakes a smile at Neville and says a raspy, "Thanks."

"No problem." He shrugs, like hitting her hard enough to bruise her back, simultaneously clearing her lungs, is no big deal and follows the team as they make their way to the center of the room.

To be safe, she sets her butterbeer on the table behind her and finds Harry with her eyes. Unlike the rest of his teammates, his face is flushed and pale and he looks about ready to be sick or faint. Whichever comes first. Ron—and his being so very good and not noticing pretty important things—pats him on the shoulder and grins around at all of his cheering peers. Feeling a speech coming on, Hermione starts towards the circle cleared out for the team as slowly and carefully as she can.

"Hang on! Hang on!" Ron yells, quieting down the particularly loud students. "Thank you, but, hang on!" They quiet down and he clears his throat, stepping forward a bit and squaring his shoulders. "I'd like to thank a few people right out for winning today's match!" The cheering starts again and Ron holds up his arms like some deranged conductor, holding out a fermata to its full value. "First off, the all-mighty Gryffindor Quidditch team!" Even louder cheering, but this time, he pulls his arms down. "We, obviously, couldn't have won without them. But, I'd also like you to put your hands together for our astounding seeker, Harry James Potter!" Wild cheers rise up that hurt Hermione's ears as she finally reaches the outside of the circle.

Harry looks up at his name being announced, and his eyes eventually drift over to her. His attempt at smiling conveys agony instead of cheerfulness, but she returns the smile anyway, trying to keep the small amount butterbeer she was able to swallow from coming back up.

"He caught the snitch that one us the match!" Ron shouts with a large smile. "The youngest seeker in a century. Am I remembering that right?" He looks at Harry, who nods, and more cheers rise up. "So, to the best seeker and captain Gryffindor could ask for!" He holds up his butterbeer bottle, as does everyone around them, save Hermione and Harry, of course. "Harry!"

This is it. The moment they've been waiting for, the precise moment that is beyond perfect.

Harry looks to her, as though letting her know that this is the best chance they'll get, and she nods in response just as everyone begins to tilt their bottles back to drink. Ignoring the sudden eruption of nervousness in her stomach, Hermione walks out into the circle around the team—not surprised when she finds she's shaking—marches right up to Harry and stops just in front of him. Without hesitation, she grabs his neck, without being to forceful, and there's a silent moment of clear, baleful terror—just one second before they change the definition of their friendship for good—that clears her head like a breath of cold air. But, then, she's pulling his neck down gently, and the moment is gone until finally—_finally_—their lips meet.

The tingle that spreads through them at the touch is shocking, and Harry wraps his arms around her waist without even thinking about it, drawing her as close as he can. His mind is able to process a few things _(that her lips are so soft, that she's so small in his arms, that she tastes like raspberries)_, and more than one of them horrify him more than he'd like.

This—the girl with her arms around his neck, with her lips on his, with her tongue in his mouth—is Hermione Granger. His best friend of 6 years. This should be wrong somehow, should _feel _wrong. But it doesn't. Instead it feels a lot like—

"What the bloody hell?"

They pull apart—his arms still around her waist, her hands sliding down his shoulders and coming to rest on his chest—and look at the person who spoke. Ron stands before them, red-faced and spluttering and it reminds Harry why they were kissing in the first place. To get at Ron and Ginny. How could he have forgotten?

Several things happen then. For one, neither Harry nor Hermione attempt to explain themselves. Instead, they huddle closer together, pleased at their success. The Gryffindors around them cheer and clap and yell and start a chant of, "Potter! Potter!" that makes Hermione laugh.

"What in the bloody _hell_?" Ron says again.

"What is happening?" Ginny.

"I knew it!" Lavender.

"You said nothing was going on!" Ron.

"Potter! Potter!" Gryffindors.

"Nice, Harry!" Dean.

Ron takes a few steps closer, a scowl firmly planted on his face. "Harry, you _told _me nothing was going on."

Hermione makes a face at him, before taking Harry's hand and Ron's sleeve and leading them both from the Common Room and into the corridor just outside. "There, now we can talk," she says when the Fat Lady swings shut again.

Ron clenches his jaw in anger. "Why did you lie?" he demands, eyes on Harry.

Harry shrugs. "I never lied," he says simply.

"Yes, you did. You _said_—"

"Actually, I didn't," he cuts him off. "You asked and I didn't answer. You must have just _assumed _that the answer was no."

"But…y-you….You and…." His eyes shift over to Hermione. "How…when did all…?" He trails off again before shaking his head. "You know what? Do what you like."

Once he's safely within the Common Room again—"Potter! Potter!"—Hermione grins up at Harry like mad. "It won't be long now," she says simply and he smiles back at her.

"Nope."

There's a pause, a silent moment that allows them to rethink the past few minutes, to remember the taste, the feel, of one another before they blush and look at each other again. "Not weird?" Hermione asks after a moment or two, stepping so close to him that their shoes brush together.

He looks down at her and pushes some hair away from her face. "A little," he tells her with an honest smile. "But, not enough to make me turn back now."

Hermione just smiles back at him for a second or two before grabbing his hand and dragging him back into the Common Room.

They don't kiss for the rest of the party, even when their fellow peers congratulate them and confess how they'd known something was up the entire time—though _surely _they all didn't know, or even suspect. Harry and Hermione just smile and laugh at the appropriate times, hands clasped firmly between them, like they're afraid to be alone in the sea of all-knowing Gryffindors.

The party finally ends around midnight and the Common Room empties until it's only them, Ron, Ginny, and a sleeping Lavender—sprawled across Ron's lap on the sofa by the fire—left.

"We did it," Hermione whispers cheerfully when the last of the party-goers disappears up the stairs to the dormitories.

Harry grins and squeezes her hand. "That we did."

She yawns and clamps her free hand over her mouth until it passes, smiling back at him once it passes. "I'm gonna go to bed," she tells him tiredly, not bothering to keep her voice down.

"I will too. It's been a long day."

"Good night, Harry."

"Night, 'Mione."

And, because she can feel Ron and Ginny's eyes on them, she stands up taller than usual and plants a loud kiss on Harry's lips before she giggles—actually giggles—and trots up the stairs to her dormitory happily.

As it turns out, Harry is better at hiding his shock than one might have guessed.

_Early Sunday morning, year six, stairs to dormitory, one room from enemy, check mate._

**:::**

**:::**

**I really hope that didn't disappoint you. This is the fourth—and best, in my opinion—version of this chapter I wrote. If you did like it, though, feel free to review and let me know. I'm kinda nervous about posting this and hearing back from you amazing reviewers would help.**

**Lastly, to all those who answered my question from the previous chapter, thank you! That meant so much! :D I'll keep you updated on my friend's decision to post it. **

**Honorary Mention (of the awesome reviewers who answered my question)**

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**Thanks again! It means so much that you answered! I think it might have been all the positive feedback that got her to start revising Sorcerer's Stone. C:**


	6. 6

**A/N: Thank you so much, again. You guys are really wonderful about reviews. Okay, here you go.**

**On a side note, I refuse to spell words like Hagrid would pronounce them. I had originally tried, but it took too much time. So, just imagine he's saying them like he actually would.**

**:::**

_Late Sunday morning, year six, Hagrid's hut, whereabouts of enemy unknown._

Somehow, everyone already knew.

"And, of course, when I first met you, I knew…I says to Dumbledore, I says…that girl is gonna be important to him, just you wait and see." Hagrid paused to beam down at them over his mug of tea. "And, here you are…six years later and I was right."

Somehow, even Hagrid knew already.

Hermione smiled at him and Harry shifted the arm he had thrown around her shoulders. He reached up and set down his mug on the large table Hagrid was sitting at. "Yeah," he says vaguely running his fingers up and down Hermione's upper arm and making her shiver a little. "You were right."

Hagrid nods and smiles. "You know, I gotta go have a talk with Dumbledore. Well, me and McGonnagall, Flitwick, and Sprout have to."

Hermione gave him an odd look. "Why all four of you?" she asks worriedly.

"He owes us thirty galleons each. Lost his bet, didn't he?"

"You, Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, and Professor Sprout _bet _on Harry and my getting together?" She shares a look with Harry that he knows promises a private conversation about this later, and looks back at Hagrid, who is nodding his large head, making his messy head of hair bob on top of his head.

"Dumbledore was the only one who didn't think it would happen, I guess, but the rest of us were so sure," Hagrid says this and takes a large pause. "And…we were right." His voice sounds tearful and choked and suddenly Hermione feels guilty about lying to him.

"Yeah, you were." Harry must feel guilty too, because the cheerful tone his voice takes sounds a little forced.

The room starts to feel a little stuffy then and Hermione feels that she must get out of there as soon as she possibly can. "Well…we have some homework to do…This was nice, Hagrid. We'll do this again." She gets to her feet quickly and Harry follows suit, not looking at all displeased about their early departure.

"See ya', Hagrid," he says reaching over to clasp Hagrid's hand and give it a quick shake. There's a moment where Hagrid looks a little disappointed, but he grins and gets to his feet anyway, his chair screeching back against the floor.

"Right. I'll see you two later." Hermione and Harry go to the door of the hut and Hagrid follows them, holding the door open and peering out of it when they exit and start across the lawn towards the school. Harry turns back for a moment before they get too far away and returns Hagrid's exuberant wave.

He turns back a moment later and takes Hermione's hand in his, linking his fingers between hers. "Well, that was…enlightening," he says sarcastically and she leans her shoulder into his.

"Certainly." She pauses for a moment biting her lip. "I can't help but wonder what's going to happen when…_if_ this works. When we 'break up.'"

Harry sighs as they start up the walk towards the big, oak doors into the entryway. "I know. That won't be pretty. But…some people just break up. Hopefully they'll understand that." She doesn't look convinced as he sends her a knowing frown and opens one of the double doors for her and holds it that way so she can enter. She keeps a grasp on his hand as the doors close behind them and she frowns, a faraway look in her eye. "Hey, listen." He pulls his hand from her and takes a gentle grasp on her shoulders. "We can do this. We've done well so far, the rest won't be as hard, okay? It's you and me." He smiles at her and she returns it easily, feeling a little lightened at his words. "We can do anything together."

"You're right," she agrees in a quiet voice. "We can do this." He smiles again and presses his lips to her forehead, lingering a bit when he hears footsteps coming their way.

"Mr. Potter. Ms. Granger." He turns to see Professor McGonagall looking their way. "I trust your afternoon is going well."

"It really is," Harry responds, hands remaining on his _(fake)_ girlfriend's shoulders. "And yours, Professor?"

"Very well, thank you," she responds and turns to make her way up the staircase. Harry, thinking that she's going, moves his hands down and takes Hermione's hand in his again. He pauses when he hears McGonagall clear her throat, though. "And, Potter?"

"Yes, Professor?" He looks up at her and raises his eyebrows.

"I believe congratulations are in order." She shifts her eyes between the pair of them and gives them a quick and tight-lipped smile.

"Yes, thank you," Hermione takes over, smiling back at their teacher.

McGonagall gives them a quick nod before she turns on her heel and starts up the stairs. They watch her for a few more moments before starting up to Gryffindor tower, neither knowing whether their conversation with their teacher warrants excitement or guilt.

**:::**

_Sunday evening, year six, Gryffindor Common Room, enemy across the room._

"Merlin," Harry sighs, looking across the room. "They are _really _going at it tonight."

Hermione turns and follows his eyes across the room to where Ron and Lavender are snogging on a couch in a darkened corner. "Think it's because of us?" she asks when she turns back to him.

He shrugs. "Could be. They've been doing that for a few weeks, though."

"Do you think we should…?" She trails off, turning a bright shade of pink.

Swallowing nervously, he shakes his head. "Maybe not…it's only been a day. People might think we moved things too fast or something."

She thinks for a moment, drawing random patterns on the hand he has placed on her knee, eyes gazing blankly into the fire right in front of them. "Okay, I've got an idea. Follow me." She gets to her feet and pulls him up with her, leading him over to the stairs to the boys' dormitories. When they reach the bottom of the stairs, she pauses until she's certain that Ron has seen them before leading them up the stairs and into the sixth year boys' dorm.

"What are we doing up here?" Harry asks when she closes the door and crosses the room to sit on his bed.

"Waiting," she answers simply. "I made sure that Ron saw us. He'll get suspicious, sure enough, and come up here to investigate."

"And what will he find when he comes up here?" He walks over to her and takes a seat on the comforter beside her.

"Us…" She pauses for dramatic purposes and a smile starts to form on his face. "Snogging."

"Really?" She nods in response and he starts to grin at her, starts to say that he likes her new sense of mischief, or mention how, maybe, he and Ron have had a bad influence on her, but, before he can, she's wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him for the third time in two days.

At first, he's confused because they're alone and she's kissing him like it'll be the last few minutes they'll be alive. Sometime after the shock wears off, though, he hears the faint sound of footsteps on the stairs and getting closer and closer to the door to the dorms. He kisses her back, then, because it's probably Ron, and because her lips are on his anyway. His arms wrap around the small of her back and she shifts so that she's sitting partly on his lap. When he hears the footsteps stop just outside the door—the deep breath before the plunge—one of his arms pulls away from her back and he cups one side of her face, brushing his thumb over her cheek.

The door opens then and he hears someone clear their throat. Harry keeps kissing Hermione for a few more seconds, though, and, when he pulls away, she bites her lip and keeps her eyes trained on his face while he looks to the doorway. Ron stands at the door, red-faced and chap-lipped, looking awkwardly out of place as he shifts his weight from one leg to the other.

"Sorry, didn't know you two were busy," Ron says after a moment and Harry shrugs, placing his hand on Hermione's thigh and tapping his fingers lightly on the fabric of her pants.

"S'okay. We were just saying good-night," he says and Ron, if it were possible, turns even redder.

"Right. I'll leave you to it, then." He crosses the room to his bed besides Harry's and tries to look busy as he starts to gather his pajamas, though Harry is sure that he's listening intently.

"Night, honey," Hermione says in a low voice, making it sound like she's hiding her words from their friend.

"Night, sweetie." Harry leans over and kisses her fervidly. Her hands dive into his hair and she kisses him back like she's an expert, even though, in reality, this is only the fourth time their mouths have connected.

They pull apart after a moment and Harry barely catches Ron averting his eyes from them. Hermione kisses him quickly one last time before turning and heading over to the doorway. Ron disappears under his bed, mumbling about how he's "dropped" something. Just before she leaves, Hermione stops in the door and looks back at her partner in crime, lifting her hand in the air. Harry does the same and they draw their arms back and air five.

His last thought before he falls asleep is that, maybe, they're getting a little _too_ good at this.

_Sunday night, year six, Gryffindor dormitories…take that._

**:::**

**Be sure to leave me nice reviews. I really hope you enjoyed this chapter.**


	7. 7

**A/N: You guys really are wonderful about reviews. Cheers!**

**:::**

_Saturday morning, year six, entrance hall, enemy very near._

"Is this line ever going to move?"

"Unlikely."

"My feet are starting to hurt and we haven't even left the school yet!"

"I know, Hermione."

"Why did I even wake up this morning? And I was having the most wonderful dream. I hardly ever have good dreams, and last night's was actually bearable. Why did I have to wake up from it?" Pause. "Why am I asking _you_?"

"I don't know."

She peeks her head around the line and he hears the faint sound of her growling, low in her throat. He takes a precautionary step away from her. "We're never getting out of here," she groans, turning back to him.

"It's Filch isn't it? Going at a glacial pace as usual." Hermione doesn't answer. She just groans again and drops her forehead down on his chest. He wraps his arms around her waist and presses a kiss into her hair. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," he hears her say, voice muffled through his sweater.

"Are you upset because we're not moving or because it's that weird time of the month?" Again, she doesn't answer, but he's pretty sure he hears a sniffle. "I thought so."

His eyes turn to look around at the others in the line. Ron and Lavender are standing a few people in front of them, Ron's hand buried in the back pocket of her jeans as she leans into his arms. He resists the urge to snort and turns his eyes to where Malfoy is standing—just a few in front of Ron. As he watches, Malfoy turns around and smirks a little, eyeing the mess of brown hair covering his sweater. Harry smiles right back and refuses to the let the weasel get to him, kissing Hermione's hair again for show.

A few moments—and muffled sniffles—later, the line moves quickly forward and Hermione pulls her head away from Harry's chest, looking around in a daze. "We're moving?" She turns to see the others in front of them shifting forward a great deal. "We're moving!"

She grabs Harry's hand and drags him forward each time they move until they're standing in front of Filch. She bounces on her heels while he checks of their names, and, giving them a glare, tells them they can go. Upon hearing this, Hermione laces their fingers and pulls Harry forward quickly.

"To Hogsmeade!" she announces, barely audible above Harry's bark of laughter.

**:::**

_Early Saturday afternoon, year six, Three Broomsticks, ½ of enemy in the corner of the room._

"Thank you," Hermione says chirpily, accepting the butterbeer he pushes across the table.

"Anything for you." He winks as he sits down and she laughs, reaching across the table to take his hand. He quietly sips his butterbeer for a few minutes, happy to just watch Hermione's facial expressions as she surveys her surroundings. She stops moving after a while, though, and her eyes settle on a booth in the corner. "What?" he asks curiously.

She nods to the booth. "Dean and Ginny are having a row."

He turns to look just in time to see Ginny get up and whisper something angrily at Dean before storming through the door. Dean slumps in his seat, looking at the table top dejectedly, before he starts looking around the room as if to see if anyone saw what happened. Unfortunately for him, he's looked a little too late and anyone who _had_ seen what happened is already hard at work pretending that there was nothing to see. He locks eyes with Harry, though and quickly gets up to join them.

"Hey, Harry, Hermione." Dean sits down on the other side of Harry and nods at them each in turn. "Saw that did you?"

Hermione frowns and leans forward a little, squeezing Harry's hand a little as she does. "What happened, Dean?' She pauses for a moment. "If you don't mind me asking, that is…"

"No, it's okay," Dean tells her with a shrug. "We were arguing, obviously."

"What about?"

"You two, actually." At their surprised looks, he hurries to add more, "See, I saw you two and offhandedly mentioned that I was really happy that you'd finally found each other. I guess she doesn't agree or whatever, because she started going off on me about all the reasons she _wasn't _happy for you."

Harry makes a face and turns to face him a little more. "What all did she say?" he asks, trying not to sound very eager.

Dean shrugs again. "She was talking too loudly for me to hear a lot of it. The last thing she said, though, was that Hermione wasn't good enough for you, Harry. How she'd never be good enough or something." He lets the silence take over for a moment so that his words can sink in. "For the record, she's wrong, guys. I've always thought that you're more than a match for Harry, Hermione. In fact, a lot of us have a pool going about what time of year you'll have your wedding."

Hermione laughs, but something in her eyes tells Harry that Ginny's words have hit her harder than she's letting show. Harry, playing along, laughs too and squeezes her hand again gently before he feels her slip it out of his hand.

"I think I'll go try to find her," Dean says after another moment or two, getting to his feet and stretching. "I'll catch up with you later."

Harry watches him go before turning to look at Hermione again. "Are you ready to go?" he asks and she nods vaguely and gets to her feet.

He leads her out of the Three Broomsticks and onto the street, where only several of their peers are walking. Most of them are probably already preoccupied in shops and restaurants, leaving the streets almost empty. Hermione walks sullenly beside him and, when he tries to take her hand, she shrugs him off and veers farther away, wrapping her arms around her middle.

"Hermione? Are you okay?" he asks. She doesn't answer so he starts to reach out and touch her shoulder, only to stop himself and pull away.

All of the sudden, he starts to have trouble understanding the world. Here he is walking down the street with his _(fake) _girlfriend—the one he's with to make the "girl of his dreams" want him—who's depressed over something he should have been happy to have happen and feeling overwhelmingly out of place. That's probably why he pushes her—gently of course—down an alley and grabs her arm with his left hand and tips her chin up with his right, forcing her to make eye contact.

"Now, what's wrong?" Her eyes fill up with tears and he feels guilty about being so forceful with her. "Oh, come here." He wraps his arms around her and lets her rest her cheek on his chest for the second time that day.

"Why?" he hears her ask quietly.

"Why what?"

"Why are you standing in an alley comforting me when you could be trying to find Ginny before Dean does? Apparently I don't deserve you, anyway."

"Hey, hey." He pulls away from her and looks her in the eye. "I'm standing in an alley comforting you because you're my best friend. My best friend who was hurt by what the girl I should be chasing down said." He lets these words settle for a little while before he makes a face. "_Why_ did what she said hurt your feelings exactly?"

Hermione shrugs and hugs him again. "I don't know. I'm already emotional because of…I'm already emotional. That's probably it."

And, even though a large part of his mind is still unconvinced, he nods and rests his cheek on her head. "Yeah, that's probably it."

**:::**

_Saturday evening, year six, Hogsmeade, whereabouts of enemy unknown._

"What about in there?"

"Do we really need to get _another _cup of tea?"

"It was just a suggestion."

Hermione laughs and tightens his arm around her shoulders. "Bookstore?" she suggests, nodding to the shop on their left.

He looks at her and quirks an eyebrow. "That depends," he says.

"On what?"

"On whether or not I'll be able to get you out of there when it's time to leave."

She laughs again and shakes her head. "If I promise, will you go?" she asks and he just shrugs.

She takes this as a yes and leads him into the shop, pulling his arm off of her and taking his hand instead when she does. The next half an hour are spent scanning the shelves around the shop and looking like a happy couple whenever a fellow student passes—usually Ravenclaw, as the students from other houses try to stay away from bookstores. When she finally decides on a book and checks out—he pays, despite her complaints—they leave and wander down the street trying to decide whether or not they want to go back to the castle.

They finally decide to go back to the castle and start down the street, hand-in-hand. Dean and Ginny walk past them, walking in a stony silence, occasionally broken by a word from Dean and a retort from Ginny that leaves them in a more awkward silence than before. Hermione stiffens as they pass, but loosens right back up once they've walked out of view, joking and leaning into him each time she laughs.

"You know, I think we're pretty good at this," he says when they've passed the main gates to the castle and no one else is around.

"Pretty good at what?" she asks and looks up at him with the smile she gave him last joke he made still on her face.

He grins right back at her and says, "This _us_ thing. We're pretty convincing."

She feigns thoughtfulness for a moment before laughing and meeting his eyes again. "Yeah, I guess we are pretty good at it, aren't we?"

He nods and they fall back into silence as they make their way up the rest of the walk and into the castle. When they enter the Common Room, he can tell that she's trying to pretend she isn't tired by hiding her yawns.

"You can go to bed, you know," he tells her with a smirk.

"I'm not tired." She yawns again and covers her mouth with her hand as she does and he chuckles. "Okay, I'm tired. I cave. I'll go to bed." He nods and tries to think of ways to say, 'I told you so,' but nothing comes to mind. It doesn't really matter, though, because his mind clears free of thought when she leans up and kisses him gently, letting it last for a few seconds longer than their previous good night kisses. "Thanks for today, Harry. Good night."

"Night," he manages as he watches her disappear up the stairs to the girls' dormitories.

As he heads up to bed after he's gotten his wits about him, he's able to form one more coherent thought;

That they're getting so good at pretending that they're starting to convince _him_.

_Sunday night, year six, dormitories…uh-oh._

**:::**

**There you go. Hope that holds you for another week.**


	8. 8

**A/N: Here you go. The chapter where everything changes. Be sure to review and tell me if you liked it or not. **

**Read on.**

**:::**

_Friday, year six, Potions class, ½ of enemy nearby._

"If you have done the concentration draft correctly, it should be giving off a smell similar to that of a campfire," Slughorn tells the class as he walks around, hands hung loosely in his pockets.

"Harry," Hermione says quietly nudging him with her arm.

"What?" He looks over at her and frowns, as if to ask with more than a word what he's done this time.

She nods to his cauldron. "Your hand is in your concentration draft," she points out quickly and he turns to find his fingers dipped into the potion.

"Woops." He wipes his hand on his pant leg while Hermione giggles. He grins at her and can't control it when his eyes drift over to Ron, who's paired up with Lavender on the other side of the dungeon. Ron doesn't look away when Harry catches his eye; instead, he smiles at his friend—like they haven't been "fighting" for three weeks over a girl. Harry frowns internally but chooses to smile at the redhead, almost glad at the friendly gesture. "At least now my hand will be able to concentrate, I suppose," he tells Hermione and she pecks his cheek quickly before turning back to her own draft—which _is _giving off the aroma of a campfire _(unlike Harry's, which is starting to smell like rotten eggs)_.

"Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger." They look up to see Slughorn standing in front of their table, one eyebrow raised.

Thinking they are about to be punished for publicly displaying their affection, Harry manages a smile and says, "Hello, Professor."

Instead of reprimanding them as they expect, he smiles and leans towards them. "I don't know if I ever properly thanked you," he says in a quiet voice.

Hermione gives him a confused look. "Thanked us for what?" she asks. Slughorn doesn't answer. He sticks a hand in the pocket of his robes and shakes it so that they can hear the faint jingle of money within. "Oh," Hermione says, comprehension dawning on her face as she shares a smile with Harry.

"Yes. Made me a richer man, you two did," he tells them with a grin. He starts to walk away, but turns back around, smile wider now. "And, another thing..."

Harry looks up from the line of instructions that Hermione is pointing to in the book. "Yes, Professor?"

"Congratulations." He flashes them another grin and goes back to inspecting the other students' work.

Harry spends the rest of class begging Hermione to use his old textbook, to which she replies, "No boyfriend of mine will be a cheater," while smiling mischievously. When Slughorn calls for them all to take a small vial of their drafts to his desk, Harry reaches for his vial only to have Hermione's hand cut him off.

"What are you-?" He cuts himself off as she dips his vial into her cauldron and fills it up before corking it and taking both "his" and her vial to the front. "What happened to no cheating?" he asks when she returns.

She shrugs. "That rule only applies to you, Harry Potter." She winks and he leans down and kisses her nose before helping her slip her bag onto her shoulder.

He takes her hand and leads her out into the corridors, happy that they'll be able to spend some time alone—Potions having been their last class of the day. Just as he's about to announce this feeling aloud, Ron steps up beside him _(without Lavender, for once) _and smiles a little awkwardly at the pair of them.

"Hi, guys," he says quietly, trying to sound like he isn't feeling out of place. Hermione shares a look with Harry before they greet him, both trying to figure out whether his arrival is a good thing or a bad thing. "Listen, Harry, can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Um...sure." Harry looks at Hermione again and smiles a little. "I'll meet you in the library."

"Sure thing." She releases his hand and starts to walk ahead of them. "Goodbye, Ronald."

"Bye, Hermione." Ron waits until she's turned the corner into the entrance hall before speaking again. "Listen, Harry...I owe you an apology."

Harry, dumfounded, looks at him with wide, confused eyes. "Why's that?"

"I treated you and Hermione terribly. I was a really lousy friend to you both..." He trails off, looking down at his shoes as they continue walking. "Ginny and I were talking the other night and...Really, we just...want to be happy for you two. What's done is done. If she's...if you two are right for each other, then we should respect that. I'm just...well, really, me and Gin are just...really sorry."

Harry's thoughts jumble together in a terrible way that makes him light-headed and he fights to keep his balance. "Er...no problem, Ron. Nothing to be sorry about," he manages, even though he's far too busy wondering how he'll tell Hermione about this.

"Great! Thanks." Ron beams and claps Harry on the back.

"Hey, wait...so, did you...feel...did you have feelings for Hermione?" His voice sounds distant when he asks it, but he knows that Ron's answer might be their last shot at success.

Ron thinks for a moment, his ears turning a bright shade of pink before meeting Harry's eyes. "For a while...yeah, I think I did...But, we fight too much, really. Wouldn't make it a week without jinxing each other into the hospital wing. But, you, Harry...you should see the way she looks at you...You're right for each other."

"Thanks." Harry nods and tries not to sound too distant.

"Well, I'd best be going before Lavender has a heart attack. Told her I wouldn't be long." He hits Harry's back again and starts off. "Oh, and, Harry?" Harry looks up as Ron turns back around, now several yards in front of him. "Make her happy, alright?"

Harry nods and watches Ron go with a pain somewhere in his chest that he can't really pinpoint. He's able to make it up to the portrait hole before he slides to the ground—like the energy has been sapped from his body—and leans back against the stone wall by the Fat Lady, his mind somewhere else.

**:::**

_Friday evening, year six, outside Gryffindor Common Room, enemy somewhere else._

Hermione finds him a while later-how long it _actually _is, he doesn't know—and he doesn't even hear her until she leans over him. His mind is far too busy struggling to make sense of the world, no matter how impossible that task seems. His head presses back against the stone wall and a million questions fire in his mind _(how should he tell her, will she be mad, what does it mean, where does this leave them, can they ever go back to how they used to be, does he even __**want **__to go back to how they used to be, and what if. What if, what if, what if)._ He can't be certain he does want to go back to how they used to be. He's not sure he _can_. He won't be able to forget how she used to smile at him, how she looked at him, how her lips felt against his...

"Harry?" He looks up at the sound of her voice and can't help but smile, even if she does look worried and frazzled, eyes wide as she stares down at him. "Why are you sitting on the floor?"

He looks down at himself like he's forgotten where he is and shrugs when he looks back up. "Dunno."

"Oh." She frowns and leans down over him a little more, kneeling so she can press the back of her hand to his cheeks and forehead. "You don't feel warm."

Her eyebrows lower over her eyes and she loses a bit of the worry on her face. The sight makes him wonder how he came to deserve someone like her, who cares about him so much abandon. And then he remembers that he doesn't _have_ someone like her at all. It's all an act. An elaborate one they worked on for so long in order to make it seem real, but an act no less.

The thought sends a pang of longing and loss through his chest and he presses a hand to it, as though rubbing it will make it go away. His eyes screw up and he tries to wish the pain away. It refuses to yield completely, and instead dulls to a low throb that remains right where he's pretty sure his heart is. "Ow." He says it accidentally—he doesn't want her to think something is wrong—but her hearing is actually pretty good and she hears anyway.

"Harry? Are you okay?" she asks, kneeling down until she's completely on her knees beside him.

He doesn't know if she means physically, emotionally, or mentally, so he goes with the physical because it's so much easier for him to lie about. "Yeah, fine." He ignores the anxious looks she gives him and gets to his feet and stretches, slipping his bag onto his shoulder.

"Okay." She sounds apprehensive, but accepts it, standing up with him. "I...uh, waited for you in the library for almost an hour. What happened? Was it something with Ron?"

This is it. This is the time to tell her what Ron said, how it's probably all his fault. No time like the present. But, what will she say? Will she "break up" with him right there? Will he have to pretend that he's fine with being just friends again? How will she handle the fact that he hasn't been pretending to date her with Ginny in mind as his prize for a while now?

"Harry?" He looks up again and she brushes her fingers down his cheek and into his hair, frowning again. "Are you _sure _you're okay? You looked a little lost for a moment."

He gives her a fake smile—one that doesn't reach his eyes—and shrugs again. "Yeah, just got to thinking for a minute." He swallows and adds, "Nothing to do with Ron. Everything's fine," without really thinking.

She's gonna find out. He _has _to tell her. It's off. Over with. And they get nothing from all the hard work. Zip. Zilch. Nada. Zero. The big goose egg.

"Great." And she smiles at him like he's the surprise appearance of the sun on a winter's day. Later, he'll try to tell himself that he only did it because he must have subconsciously known that everyone would be heading down to dinner that moment, but it's really her smiling at him like that way that makes him do it, actually;

He kisses her. Without really meaning to or planning to. He just gently frames her face and ducks down and kisses her with all of the confusion and fuzzy feelings she's been giving him since the first time she kissed him. She seems shocked at first, because there's no one around, but she responds just a few seconds after he captures her lips, her arms wrapping around his waist and pulling his body against hers.

(_What if, what if, what if, what if, what if...)_

As caught up as they are, they don't notice the portrait hole open, nor do they hear the catcalls, whistles and cheers from their fellow Gryffindors as they pass the couple on their way to dinner. They pull away when oxygen becomes an issue and Hermione laughs like they had planned their little show all along and Harry chuckles in relief because he's glad he doesn't have to make up a reason as to why he kissed her.

Ron passes by with Lavender while Hermione's turned towards Harry, talking about taking their stuff to their dorms before heading down the Great Hall. Ron captures Harry's eye and winks at him, smiling as his eyes shift between Hermione and him. Harry just smiles and shrugs a little because he's not sure how else he should respond.

**:::**

_Friday evening, year six, Gryffindor Common Room, enemy across the room._

"Harry, I've had an idea." Hermione leans towards his chair from her own and smiles a little. He's been distant since she found him outside the Common Room and she needs to change the subject anyway, because, if they're going to through with her plan, they'll need to do it soon. He looks up at her from the spot of wall his eyes have been glued to since they sat down and raises his eyebrows, as if telling her to go on without words. "Well, you know how a lot of students will go into the Astronomy tower to snog on weekend nights?"

His eyes widen and his look turns into one of shock. "No, Hermione. I honestly did not know that."

She waves her hand in his direction, refraining from rolling her eyes at him. "I thought it was common knowledge. Anyway, I overheard Dean telling Seamus that he's planning on taking Ginny up there at midnight tonight."

"And?"

"And—" She draws the word out as long as she can, sounding somewhat exasperated. "—we can go up before them and be snogging by the time they come in. I'm pretty sure Ginny's just one incident away from cracking under the pressure and claiming the famous Harry Potter as her own." Hermione grins with her tongue between her teeth because this has been what they've been working towards for almost a month. This is what they wanted. And it's almost theirs. Harry, however, frowns, eyebrows furrowing above his eyes. She notices because she's always tried to remain observatory and she leans even closer to him when she sees the look on his face. "Are you in?"

He looks hesitant, like he really has to think it over before answering, but, after a moment or two, he gives her a slow nod and she smiles, watching his eyes light up as she does. "Great! We'll have to head up around 11:30, alright?"

"Sure. Invisibility cloak?"

She shakes her head. "Prefect, remember? If you're with me, you're in the safe zone," she tells him seriously, smiling when she gets a chuckle out of him. It's the liveliest he's looked all night.

"You are so..." he starts, but trails off, still smiling and shaking his head.

"So _what_? Be careful how you answer that, Potter," she tells him, quirking an eyebrow.

Harry just laughs and puts up his hands in mock surrender, glad he didn't finish the sentence. 'Perfect' isn't a good enough word to describe her, anyway.

**:::**

_Friday night, year six, Astronomy Tower, 1/2 of enemy supposed to show in less than 15 minutes._

"What are you doing?"

"Huh?"

"I asked what you were doing."

"This?"

"Yes. _That_."

"Casting a charm that will let us know when someone's heading up the stairs."

"Where'd you learn that?"

"Charms class. Last year."

"_I_ didn't learn that."

"_You _don't pay close enough attention, Potter." She sticks her wand into her pocket and goes over to stand by him, leaning back against the railing he's currently leaning on. "So, what's the plan?" He smirks at her and she makes a face. "What are you smiling at?"

"Nothing," he says in a lighthearted voice she's glad to hear. "I'm usually the one asking that is all. Besides, I thought you usually had about five back-up plans, fully prepared to be used in case of emergency, as well as the first and best already choreographed plan memorized."

"You overestimate me."

"That was _underestimating _you."

She shrugs. "Well, the plan is simple enough. It's how we act it out that needs the planning. That is to say, where exactly we'll be snogging when they walk in."

"How do you mean?" he asks, feeling the blush start to appear on the back of his neck and ears.

"Why don't you be pressing me into the railing or something? Not hard, mind you," she suggests, looking at him hopefully.

Heat rises in his face and he's glad that the moon isn't giving off much light. "Right, that's good. We should...just...you know...d-do that."

She tilts her head and furrows her eyebrows as she looks at him. "Are you feeling ill again, Harry? You look a little warm."

He shrugs her hand off when she tries to press it to his forehead and shakes his head, wondering when it got so hot. "N-no, I'm fine...that is to say that...all's good...here."

Harry strides away to the other side of the tower and looks out over the grounds of the school, trying to make his thoughts make sense. This is Hermione, his best friend. His best friend who it's _not _okay to lie to, especially not about something this important. He lied to her about this, said that Ron wanted nothing when, in reality, what Ron said had changed the game completely. Ron didn't want Hermione. Ginny didn't want him. They both thought that he and Hermione were perfect for each other, like this has been going on for years. _Which_, he thinks spitefully, _it may very well have been._

But that wasn't even the big problem. No, the big problem was that, somewhere along the way, Harry had started to enjoy being Hermione's pretend boyfriend. So much so, in fact, that he didn't want it to stop. He didn't want to "break up" and go back to how things used to be. He didn't _want _to be old Harry. Old Harry was alone and had never kissed Hermione, never felt her skin on his lips, never touched her waist or held her in his arms. Old Harry had never lived, not really. Old Harry wasn't complete. But this Harry, the one he is now, _is _complete-a finished puzzle. Hermione is the last piece.

And she has no idea.

She has no idea that she makes him feel like this. She doesn't know that her smile makes him feel like bursting, that the memory of kissing her could help him conjure a Patronus strong enough to fend off a thousand dementors, that her eyes ignite a fire within him he didn't know was there.

He can't tell her. There's a part of him that knows this, accepts it even. It's the logical part of his brain that understands that Hermione deserves so much more than him. His body, his heart, and the rest of his head, however, don't agree. In fact, they're rioting against the logical part of his brain's opinion with a vengeance.

"Harry?" He turns then and looks at her. "The charm worked. They're almost here."

"Okay," he says quietly and starts towards her.

He knows that it's wrong of him to kiss her when she still thinks that they're pretending. It's completely wrong. But she'll find out about how Ron and Ginny actually _want _them together now eventually, and it might very well be the last time he _gets _to kiss her, feel her against him. So, wrong or not, he's gonna take whatever he can get.

"Ready?" she asks when he standing directly in front of where she's leaning against the railing.

"Ready."

Hermione snakes her arms around his neck and into his hair and he grasps her hips gently in his hands. There's a moment-one that reminds him of the first time they kissed—where their eyes meet, both nervously licking their lips in anticipation, and, in this moment, the world pauses. Not for long. Just long enough for them to prepare for what's coming next. But he can't wait much longer because he's already closer to her than he knows is safe and the footsteps outside the tower door are getting louder. So, he gives her a nervous smile that she returns and closes his eyes as he kisses her.

The world slips away and it's almost easy for him to pretend that she's kissing him because she genuinely wants to kiss _him_ and not Ron.

"Oh, sorry. We didn't know this was already occupied." They pull away from each other to see Ginny and Dean standing in the doorway, both looking extremely smug.

"It's quite alright," Hermione tells them breathlessly, her arms staying around his neck.

"We'll just go find somewhere else then." Dean smiles and starts out of the room, tugging on Ginny's hand as he does.

She stays where she is, though, eyes glued on Harry—who is horrified that maybe she _isn't _sorry like Ron said after all. "Hey, Harry. Ron said he talked to you earlier."

Harry's eyes go wide. "Yeah..." He clears his throat and tries not to be obvious when he scoots a little closer to Hermione. "Er...yeah, he did."

She nods and smiles. "I'm glad he did. We're both just really sorry. We..._I_ had no right to treat you two like that. And, when you get down to it, I'm actually happy for you," she explains and his heart is thundering against his ribcage.

"It's fine, really."

"Okay." She grins, eyes switching between them. "Great. We'll see you guys tomorrow. Have fun." She sends a wink their way and then she and Dean are gone, tugging the door behind them as they go.

As preoccupied as he is staring at the closed door in horror, Harry doesn't feel Hermione slip out of his arms, and, by the time he turns, she's already a short distance away, eyes wide as she looks at him in confusion.

"What was _that_?" she asks, looking frantic.

"What was wh—?"

"Don't give me that! Ron apologized? They're happy for us? They actually told you this and you didn't _tell _me?"

He looks down at his feet. "I didn't know how to, Hermione. They're...f-fine with us being together, got over it, even. I'm sorry...I didn't know—"

"Harry...I asked you why you were so upset earlier and you lied. You told me it had nothing to do with Ron. It's all for nothing now. It's over, done with. We're right back where we started. How are we supposed to fix this? And why didn't you just _tell _me? I've been your partner in this for a month and you couldn't even..." She's babbling now, looking serious as her eyes rove all over the room, looking everywhere but at him. Her hands even begin to wave for emphasis as he takes tentative steps towards her until he standing directly in front of her. He's never been around a hysterical Hermione before, so he doesn't really know how to handle it. Which is why he's as surprised as her when he finds a way to shut her up. "And now it's all _completely _gone down the drain. It's like we've both just—"

He cuts her off with his lips, one hand rising to rest on her cheek and pull her gently into the embrace. The sudden silence in the tower mixed in with the night sounds rings in his ears and he finds himself suddenly hyperaware of how soft her lips are. The kiss doesn't actually last a long time, but it doesn't matter because he kissed her. For the first time, he kissed her when no one was watching simply because he _wanted _to. It was the first time he kissed her for real.

"What was that?" she asks, stumbling back a few steps once they pull away, the fingers of her right hand pressing against her lips where he'd like to think she can still taste him.

"I thought it was pretty self-explanatory."

"Why did you kiss me?"

"Because I wanted to. That's why I couldn't tell you about Ron. That's why it was so hard," he tells her, wondering where this sudden burst of courage came from.

"I...I-I don't u-understand," she whispers and he chuckles because it's amazing that he can reduce Hermione Granger—know-it-all extraordinaire, who always has a strong opinion and a speech about it, to boot—to stutters and mumbles of confusion just by kissing her.

"Yes, you do."

"_No._ I don't. Why did you kiss me, Harry?" Her tone says she's all business, but her eyes show something else—fear, shock, and a hint of tragic affection that he prays is towards him.

He steps towards her and tilts her chin up with his fingers so that she's forced to look at him. "You already know why."

"No. I don't."

"You can feel it just like I can." He presses his free hand on the uppermost section of her chest and smiles when he feels her heartbeat on his palm. "Feel that? Your heart racing? I did that to you." He lowers the hand he has under her chin and grabs one of her hands and presses it to his chest so that she can feel his heartbeat. "Feel that? _My _heart racing? _You _did that to _me._"

She shakes her head and tears fill her eyes. "I still don't know why you kissed me."

"You want to know why?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Really."

He's actually not certain why he kissed her. His thoughts are far too jumbled for him to make sense of them. So, instead of thinking it through, he lets his mind take control of his mouth, lets it decide what his answer should be. It's because of this that he's as shocked as she is when he hears himself say, "I'm in love with you."

Her eyes are so wild that she looks crazy and he wonders how many more tears will have to fill them before everything comes pouring out. "Y-you're...w-what?"

He didn't really have much control when his subconscious answered for him, but he feels the truth of the statement slide into place anyway. "I'm in love with you, Hermione Granger," he repeats staring into her eyes with all of the sincerity he can muster. "I have been for a long time. It's been there for a while, but...it took me until now to understand it."

"I d-don't...Harry, we...can't..._I _can't."

Something in his chest cracks inaudibly and he frowns because it's _his _turn to tear up. "Don't tell me that. You can, 'Mione. I know it and you know it. Look at us these past few weeks, especially these past few days. When you were kissing me or talking to me or hugging me, how many times were you thinking of Ron?" He gives her time to think about that and smiles when he sees comprehension dawning on her features—the answer to said question being 'not once'. "Exactly. It's just been us. You and me. Now, look back over the years. It's _always _been there. Don't try and convince me otherwise because we'd just be lying to ourselves." She removes her hand from his chest so he brushes some hair away from her face and lets his hand linger on her cheek when she doesn't pull away. "I've loved you all this time, Hermione. And, sometimes...sometimes you loved me back."

Harry doesn't know what he's expecting after saying all of this. Maybe a heartfelt speech or apology, a passionate embrace, a moonlit waltz into their happily ever after. But, whatever he's expecting, it certainly isn't, "I'm sorry, Harry." That's what he gets though, and, even if she does look a bit sad when she says it, Hermione says it nonetheless. "I can't...We're not...I don't...f-feel that way about...y-you."

He draws his hand back like he's been burned and watches, helpless to stop it, as she takes a few steps away from him. "I'm sorry...if you thought that I did, but I...don't. I was only...it's my fault that the lines of communication got...m-messed up. My fault entirely that you misinterpreted things."

"Right." He laughs bitterly and looks away, rubbing his hands together. "Misinterpreted things."

"But...because of the sh-show we've been putting on for so l-long, I think that we should, you know...wait a few days before announcing that we've broken up," she suggests, trying to look hopeful even as the tears stream down her face. "We'll have to act amiable for a while...like nothing's wrong until then, though."

He shakes his head at her and wipes his eyes with his thumb. "Sure. Great." He really wants to scream at her, wants to tell her that he _can't _pretend that nothing's wrong when his whole world just shifted. He wants to scream and yell until he doesn't hurt like this anymore, wants to tell her that he _knows _that she feels the same way he does, that they can have a happy ending, too. But he doesn't because she looks so beautiful with her hair blowing gently in the night breeze, her eyes shiny in moonlight, and the gravity of the situation hits him then. "I have to go," he tells her then, because he does. He can't be near her after this. What he needs is to be alone until the aching hole in his chest goes away—assuming it _can _go away.

Hermione nods like she was expecting that and doesn't try to stop him when he turns away and heads out of the Astronomy tower. As soon as he's gone, her legs collapse from under her and she falls to the ground, covering her face with her hands and sobbing into them until her chest is too sore to continue, wondering what on earth she's just turned down.

_Very early Saturday morning, year six, opposite sides of Hell...Assume crash positions._

**:::**

**A/N: This took me a long time to write. I wanted to capture it well enough that none of their feelings seemed too rushed. Then, of course, I had to read two chapters before this one just to make sure it fit in. So, you just read the fifth draft of this chapter. Sorry about the wait. **

**I do ask that you leave plenty of reviews. This story only has two chapters left. You should get to the reviewing now before it's too late. xD**


	9. 9

**A/N: This chapter contains more Ron than other chapters. But he's needed, so it makes sense. By the way, in case I've never mentioned this, I'm _seriously _messing with the timeline of HBP in this story. It's pretty messed up in this AU. Stuff's all over the place.**

**Okay, here's the next to the last chapter. I really hope you enjoy it.**

**:::**

_Late Saturday morning, year six, 6th year boys' dormitory...turns out that the enemy is no longer an enemy._

Harry lies in bed and stares up at the top of his four poster. He's the only one still in there. Everyone else is either at breakfast or off enjoying the annoyingly sunny Saturday. The curtains are still drawn around his bed and his eyes are vacant as he stares blankly into space, trying to keep his mind clear. Which is impossible.

Horribly, horribly impossible.

It's been a week. A single week since the sky turned black and fell down around him. Seven days since he ruined one of the best relationships he'd ever had. 176 hours since he stopped being able to think straight. 10,560 minutes since he last kissed her. 633,600 seconds since the world as he knew it ended.

He hasn't really spoken to Hermione, except in short sentences, in that week. In fact, he didn't speak to her at all on Sunday. But no one else had noticed, at least. They all still saw the happy couple they used to be pretty good at pretending to be—if only less publicly passionate about it. They're the ones who are blissfully unaware of all the pain they could be forced to take with just three words. Three words could end their worlds.

_I'm sorry, Harry._

He grunts and tries not to cry because this not thinking of anything at all isn't working out in his favor thus far.

Hermione has been amiable enough and it scares him a little that she's so good at pretending nothing's wrong. Part of him wants to be worried about that side of her, but the part of him that's been keeping him in bed doesn't care enough to.

The door to the dormitories opens then and Harry hears someone coming closer. It isn't until the curtains around his four poster are ripped open that he sees Ron in front of him, glaring daggers at his friend and crossing his arms.

"Get up," Ron says simply, like he's had enough. Harry ignores him and looks back up at the top of his four poster, trying to silently will him to go away. "I said—" Ron uncrosses his arms and tugs the blankets off of Harry's body angrily. "—get up."

"No."

"Yes."

"Why?"

Ron gives him a look that asks simply if he's been paying attention to the past few days at all and shrugs sarcastically. "Hm..." He feigns thoughtfulness for a moment. "Maybe because you haven't left your bed since after dinner last night. Get up now or I'll drag you out."

Harry sits up, as though to humor him and shakes his head because Ron doesn't know what's been going on this past week. He doesn't get it. "Ron, I'm not getting out of bed."

"Why?" he demands, still glaring. "You're not sick are you? That's what I've been telling people; that you're sick and too stubborn to go to the hospital wing." He pauses as though to think over his remaining options. "Should I get Hermione?"

Harry winces at the mention of her name and wants nothing more than to fall into a deep sleep for the rest of his life. "No. Please don't get Hermione."

"She'd know how to get you out of bed. And _I'm _certainly not going to tempt you out of bed with my lips or however it is she controls you." Another wince. "Hey...what's wrong now?" Ron's tone says that he's genuinely sincere now and Harry almost opens up to him before he remembers that he's not allowed to. This is Ron, one of the reasons he's in pain in the first place.

If Ron hadn't been such a git about the Lavender thing, then he and Hermione would have lived happily ever after, leaving Harry to pursue Ginny into the sunset. Harry never would have fallen in love with Hermione and she never would have turned him down. The end.

Part of him wonders if that's just a lie he's telling himself so that he can pass it off like it's nothing. Because he's been in love with Hermione for God only knows how long. It isn't a new thing. The fact that he _knows _that he's in love with her is the new thing.

"Harry, mate?" He looks up at a slightly worried Ron and shakes his head clear of thoughts. "Are you sure you don't want me to get Hermione? You're looking a little peaky."

"Don't get Hermione, okay? Please, just…don't…" He trails off, looking down at his sheets with a grim expression on his face.

"_That's _it, isn't it?" Ron asks, comprehension dawning on his face. "Did something happen between you and Hermione? Is that why you're skulking?"

"I'm not sulking."

"I beg to differ." He grins for a moment before becoming serious again. "That's got to be it, Harry. What happened?" He takes a seat on his own bed and stares across the few feet between them, ready to listen.

"I really can't talk about it, Ron," Harry tells him truthfully because, really, he can't.

"Why not? I tell you everything. Even that time I used my mom's best cooking pots to…" His ears turn red and he gives a little cough. "No need to bring that up again."

"Trust me, Ron…I just…can't."

"Trust _me_ for once, will you?" Ron looks a little agitated now and Harry feels a pang of guilt shoot through him. "I tell you everything. You can trust me, okay?"

Harry sighs and looks at his best friend who has, indeed, always confided in him. It really is only fair. And, besides, it's not as if Ron knowing will change anything now. There's nothing to be changed. Hermione will break up with Harry in a week and that will be it. No one will ever know it wasn't fake. It won't matter anymore.

So Harry tells Ron everything. He starts with the night Hermione proposed the idea and keeps going through to the previous Saturday. And, when he's finished, a silence takes over the room, seeming to cast a spell over the pair of them as Harry waits for Ron to speak, to give his opinion on what he's just been told.

"Wow." His eyes are wide as he stares at Harry, as though unable to believe that his friend could have gone through so much for the sole purpose of helping a friend and winning over a girl. "It was _all _fake?" Harry nods. "I can't believe that. You two…were _so_…convincing. You really had me going." A shrug is sent his way. Ron's face loses its brightness and he frowns over at his friend. "Are you really in love with Hermione?" Ron blushes a little because this isn't something normal guys talk about. There's some sort of rule against it, in fact.

Harry looks away from Ron, eyes more distant than ever as his mind fills with images and memories of the girl in question. "Yes, Ron…I really am in love with Hermione."

"And she said she doesn't feel the same way?" Harry nods slowly, feeling a bit of pain in his chest when he does. "Well, that's a load of rubbish."

Harry looks up and gives his friend a confused look. "What?"

"I said that what she said is a load of rubbish." Ron shakes his head in disbelief. "I've watched you two for the past few weeks...mostly out of jealousy, but still. I've seen how she looks at you, how she looks when someone talks about you. Harry, she's crazy about you too. It's pretty damn obvious."

"Yeah, well try telling her that."

Ron frowns and gets up, patting Harry on the back. "Listen, I'll try to tell her, okay? She needs someone to say it outright."

Harry shakes his head, looking worried. "No, wait…please don't bring it up. It might just make things worse. I don't…"

Ron nods. "Alright. I won't. Come on. I only came to get you because we have Quidditch practice after lunch."

"Right." Harry gets up and gets dressed while Ron waits, hoping he hid his crossed fingers well enough when he promised he wouldn't say anything.

**:::**

_Saturday after lunch, year six, Gryffindor Common Room, enemy probably already at practice._

Hermione sits in the nearly empty Common Room and alternates between doing her homework and staring out the window and down at the bright, warm grounds—where most of the other students are lounging around by the lake. She's not in the mood to be outside right now. She doubts she will be anytime soon.

The past week has been absolute torture—and that's sugarcoating it. It's been difficult to pretend that nothing is wrong when, every time she's near Harry, she gets this feeling that she needs to get down to her knees and grovel for his forgiveness. There's a new darkness—a complete absence of emotion—in his eyes and she hates herself for putting it there. But, after what she said, she can't think of a way to tell him that she was wrong. It's not as if she can just walk up to him and say, "Oh, hey, sorry about that. Turns out I actually _do _feel the same. Forgive me?"

That wouldn't go over well.

And he's been so silent towards her. So stiff and cold. Of course, it isn't out of line. She's been getting all that she bought and paid for. This is her fault. He's not her friend anymore because of what she said. And there will _always _be that distance between them whenever their together.

"Stupid Ron and Ginny…" she mumbles to herself and slams her _History of Counter Jinxes _book closed on her lap.

They just had to go and grow up, had to be the better man_ (men?)_ and ask for forgiveness. Things were going just fine until…

"Until I ruined everything." She says this a bit louder and the two people left in the Common Room glance at and away from her quickly.

Because, again, it's her fault entirely. It will never _not _be her fault.

She sighs and leans her head back against her chair, closing her eyes to the annoyingly bright sunlight. Stupid pretty weather.

"Hermione?" She looks up at the voice to see Ron standing in front of her, looking awkward. She turns her head and looks around for Harry, only to see him disappear out of the portrait hole. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

She frowns because she hasn't actually spoken to Ron in a long while. "Sure."

Ron takes a seat in a chair across from her and rubs his hands together, looking thoughtful as he thinks over what he needs to say. "Listen," he says after a minute, looking up at her. "Harry told me everything."

Panic shoots through her and she frowns. "Define everything."

"He told me about how it was all an act." He gives her a sympathetic look. "He told me how you turned him down."

"Ron, I don't wanna talk about this." She opens a book on her lap and resists the urge to cry over his reference to that night a week ago.

"Yeah, well I'm not giving you a choice." She looks up at him with wide eyes because this isn't a version of Ron she's ever had to deal with before. "Did it make you feel better?"

"Did what make me feel better?"

"Telling him no. Lying to him like that. I hope it did because it sure didn't make it all disappear." He looks more serious than she's ever seen him.

"Don't you have Quidditch practice?" It's more of a reminder than a question—she knows that he does. She saw the entire team leave earlier. Even Harry left bed to go out to the pitch.

He shrugs. "Yeah, but Harry knows I'll be a little late. I thought you two were more important than a game."

And that's how she knows he's serious. Ron has almost always put Quidditch before everything else, especially once he started playing on the team. For him to say that this mess between his best friends is more important—for him to imply that _he's _the one person who can make them kiss and make up—shows just how much he's changed. She feels a mixture of pride and annoyance towards him and raises her eyebrows, as though asking him to go on.

"Harry's been cooperative in talking about this. I guess he needed to get tell someone who wasn't directly involved. I thought you might need the same thing."

She really doesn't want to do this. She doesn't want to talk it all out like it's something that can be fixed. Her breaking Harry's heart and severing any emotional tie to him isn't something that can be fixed. Ron shouldn't treat it like it is.

"Listen, Ron, I appreciate this, but I have other things to do," she tells him and gets to her feet. She leaves the Common Room without picking up her books, leaving them behind. She heads out into the empty corridors and strides away from the portrait hole quickly.

"Hermione!" She can hear Ron's footsteps as he follows her out, picking up his pace in order to catch up.

"I'm serious, Ron," she says coldly, turning around to look at him. "Just go away."

"No." He catches up with her completely and shakes his head. "Merlin, it's like you two switched places. He's the one dealing with things directly—something _you _usually do—and _you're _the one running away. That's something Harry would do."

"Leave me alone, Ron. You don't understand what's going on."

"Don't I? I'm best friends with both of you. I see stuff you two miss. Have for years. Just because you typically ignore that doesn't mean you're not still missing things." He's not going to let this go—she can see that much. Not that she accepts it, but she can at least see it.

"Ron, things are just complicated," she tells him. "Alright? It'll work itself out. And…if it doesn't…we'll be…just fine."

"Oh, so you two not talking isn't killing you both inside?" She frowns at him and turns back around, resuming her walk away from him. "That's pretty obvious, especially after he told me everything," he tells her, keeping up by walking directly behind her in long strides. "You're supposed to be the smart one, Hermione. How did you not see this coming?"

"See what coming?" she asks stiffly, still not looking at him.

"Come on. Harry would do anything for you. That's been pretty obvious since the troll incident first year. And, have you _not _seen the way he looks at you?"

"You don't get it—" She stops walking and whirls around to face him. "—I'm not 'ignoring this' or running away from it. It's over. Done. He told me how he felt and I returned the favor. Just because our feelings don't match up exactly doesn't mean that you have to step in and save the day."

"So you're just gonna let him go?" he asks, surprised.

"It's not my decision to make."

"Yes it is, Hermione! It _is _your decision. That's what you're not understanding. You _do _feel the same way. It's been there for years. You're just not ready to accept that yet. That's why you turned him down."

"What was I supposed to do? Tell him I'm ready for that? Because I'm not a very good liar, if you've noticed." Tears start to fill her eyes and she bites her lip to keep them back.

"That's what you don't get. I'm pretty sure you _are _ready for that, ready for him. You're turning down an amazing offer, a once in a lifetime chance. And you have a very small window of opportunity here. He's gonna move on…maybe not well, maybe not a first…but, at some point, he's gonna start thinking that you were serious and he's gonna leave…You know what? Any girl in this school is dying to accept an offer like the one he gave you. Can you imagine Ginny turning him down like you did?"

Her frown grows at this. "I thought you and Ginny—"

"—were okay with it," he finishes her sentence. "We may have stretched the truth just a bit. It was more that, with you two _finally _together, we knew we didn't stand a chance, that the stars had finally aligned so that the pair of you could have a happy ending. Who were we to mess with that? So…we made the decision to be happy for you instead of angry. And, honestly? I'm having a lot more fun being happy for you."

"So…you actually did…?" She trails off, looking surprised.

"Have feelings for you?" She nods. "Yeah, for a while there, I did. But...I'm not what you need, no matter how much I'd like to be." He gives her a sad smile. "You could always do better."

"Ron…" She reaches up and touches his cheek because he used to be all that she thought about _(because he's once again lost out to Harry, because he's right)._

"I know." He reaches up and takes her hand off his cheek, but doesn't let it go. "Hermione…you need to go talk to Harry."

She scoffs. "And do what? Beg him for forgiveness? Tell him I was wrong?"

"Yeah, that's what you should do," he says seriously and she stares at him in disbelief. "Why wouldn't you?"

"I can't just…do that…I ruined everything."

"I know that. You know that. I'm pretty sure that Harry knows that, too. But, why not tell him that? Make _sure _he knows. Fix things? Isn't it worth it?"

"Ron…I can't do that." She doesn't say why she can't because she honestly doesn't know. She should be able to tell Harry that she was wrong, that she's in love with him the way that he's in love with her, that he's all that she wants and that she hopes that she's enough for him because she really, really wants to be. But she can't. There's something holding her back. There's _always _been something holding her back.

He frowns at her and finally releases her hand. "Hermione, if you don't want to hear me out, tell me and I'll shut up and leave you alone." He looks angry again and she takes a step away—but she doesn't say that she doesn't want to hear it. "Hermione, you two stopped living this week; like you were the only things keeping each other alive. And you're just letting him walk away like what you two feel is nothing. But, you don't understand that he's the kind of person that's only going to offer you this _once _in your life." She frowns as he says this and looks down at the floor. "You've always been there for each other, never held anything back, risked it all sometimes. You've really got something with him, Hermione, and you're just going to pretend you don't feel the same because you don't feel like you're completely ready for that?"

Hermione wipes her eyes with the pads of her fingers and wraps her arms around her stomach, feeling the jagged hole that appeared the previous Friday night ache at his words.

"You weren't telling the truth when you told him no. You must get that now. But, Harry? He still thinks you _were _telling the truth. And he always will unless you tell him otherwise. You're the one that has to fix this, Hermione. He's gone all-in already. He's put everything he has to offer on the table. I know that...your love life isn't really any of my business, but...I can't just silently stand by and watch my two best friends fall apart. Because...it's really, really scary how easily you two fell apart without each other." He smiles a little and shakes his head. "But...if you can just let him walk away and move on, find someone else...then, tell me. I'll admit I was wrong and we can try to forget the whole thing. But if you actually _do _feel the same way—if you really were lying when you turned him down—and you're ready to be with him like you obviously want to—in a scary, needy, horribly messy, can't-live-without-each-other way—then, please, for Merlin's sake, reconsider your reasoning behind saying no."

He doesn't say anything else and she stares down at her feet. She closes her eyes and thinks it over, smiling a bit when she pictures Harry's grin, his lips on hers, his warm hands on her face and he neck and her waist. She does love him. That much she's known since she turned him down. But, for the first time, she realizes that she's ready to show that to him, ready to love and be loved in return. She realizes that it's something she can _actually _do.

"Ron…" She looks up at him, tears in her eyes and he can see that his words have worked, that she's ready to beg for forgiveness, need be.

He smiles and pulls her into a hug, pressing a kiss into her hair. "Run, Hermione."

And so, for the first time—barring life-threatening situations—Hermione runs. She pulls away from Ron and runs down the corridor. She speeds past the portrait hole and reaches the stairs, quickly hurrying down them without tripping over her feet. She only passes a few students on her way down—most of them are still outside, no doubt—but the ones that she recognizes start discussing her quick means of transportation and state of breathless anxiety immediately. No doubt her marathon will be the only topic of discussion at dinner.

But she doesn't let that stop her. Because she _is _in love with Harry and she's pretty sure she has been since her first year. He's always been there for her, despite all of the things he's had going on in his life. And now it's her turn to be there for him. She's more ready for this than she thought she was and she's so glad for Ron that she wants to shout it from the top of the school. But she won't, because she has somewhere else she needs to be right now.

When she reaches the marble staircase, she passes McGonagall and Flitwick, who watch her with wide eyes. "I hope the reason for your dangerous speed is somewhat of an emergency, Ms. Granger," McGonagall says with a thin-lipped smile.

"Oh, it is, professor," Hermione manages to call back without stopping.

And, Professor McGonagall, who has always been more observant than she was ever given credit for, looks at Professor Flitwick and says simply, "Mr. Potter will be glad to see her, no doubt," before they continue their way up the staircase.

Hermione's walls have been up since she was old enough to understand that she thought differently than the other kids at her school—that they treated her differently because of it. And she's been so cautious around people since then, always making sure to keep a comfortable distance away. But, not now. Her walls are _finally _ready to come down. And there's only one person she would lower them for.

"Careful, Granger!" Professor Slughorn calls when she passes the Great Hall. She smiles at him as she runs past, giving him a slight wave before she rushes onto the grounds. As she pushes open the large double doors to the outside, Slughorn belts out a laugh at her behavior. "Good luck!" he calls and she almost wonders if there is a teacher in the school who _doesn't _know what's been going on between her and Harry.

She picks up the pace once she reaches the rolling lawn, passing students all around who are either lounging in the shade or lying in the sun and talking. Almost everyone's eyes turn to her when she runs past and a few, like the students she passed in the school, begin to discuss it immediately. She ignores them and presses on, surprised that she isn't feeling the least bit tired when she reaches Hagrid's hut.

"Where you off to so fast?" Hagrid asks when she passes him. He's seated on his front steps with a large mug and Fang at his feet, giving her a confused look.

Without slowing her pace, Hermione flips around and starts jogging backwards in order to address him. "I've got to go tell Harry that I'm in love with him!" she calls to him before flipping back around.

Hagrid laughs loudly so that she can hear him even when she reaches the Quiddtich pitch. "About ruddy time!" she hears him holler.

Harry's hovering near the Gryffindor stands watching the chasers pass the Quaffle down the pitch when Hermione bursts onto the field. He doesn't notice her until Ginny yells at him to look down. He does and sees a breathless Hermione standing by the hoops on the far side of the pitch.

"Potter!" Ginny calls and he looks over at her. "Go and get her already!" She grins at him and the rest of the team stops practicing to watch.

Harry frowns a little and considers his options. Really, there are only two—he can fly down and see what Hermione wants or he can fly away and be a coward about the whole thing. Honestly, after the week they've been through, he wouldn't be able to say that he isn't considering the latter option. He's not completely positive he could handle the girl of his dreams breaking his heart for the second time in 7 _(almost 8) _days. But then he looks at her—all brown hair and white smile—and he wants nothing more than to sweep her off her feet. So, he tilts his broom handle towards the ground and lands softly on the ground, looking at her once he's landed.

"Harry!" she yells from 30 some yards away and starts running towards him. He flings his Firebolt to the side—something he'd practically sworn he'd never do to such a beautiful broom—and watches as she runs full out, straight at him. Her eyes scream, 'catch me', so, when she jumps into the air, he does. His arms fasten around her waist, steadying her with his arms, and her legs lock around his hips. One of her arms goes around his neck and she uses her free hand to brush her fingers down his face.

"I just thought that you should know that I _am _in love with you. You were right." She starts to cry again and smiles when she sees that Harry's doing the same thing, clear liquid starting to fill the emerald of his eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you that last Friday. But I am powerfully, painfully, absolutely in love with you. I love everything about you...the things you say, everything you do, the way you make me feel...I'm in love with you, Harry James Potter. No one else has the power to make me feel the way you do." And, because both of them are crying now, she leans down and kisses him—the first time she kisses him because she actually _needs_ to. Harry kisses her back and presses into her as much as he can without dropping her; suddenly glad for all of those years of Quidditch.

And it feels like he never got off his broomstick—like the world is still hovering somewhere below while he's up somewhere in the sky, floating freely in the air. Hermione's lips are soft and perfect against his own and he never wants to pull away. Because he was right—she _is _in love with him.

As they pull apart for air, all of the pain he's been feeling for a week leaves and the hole in Hermione's chest starts to seal back up. He sets her back down, but they keep their arms around one another, bodies pressed together as the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team—and the few people in the stands—break into a chorus of whistles, cheers, and applause. Harry laughs and refuses to look away from Hermione, his _actual _girlfriend.

"What's so funny?" she asks, smiling at him like he's the entire world to her.

He shrugs and leans his forehead against hers _(because she's his sunlight). _"You said I was right again."

Hermione swats his arm and pulls him down for another kiss—a form of punishment he's not surprised to find that he rather likes.

_Saturday afternoon, year six, Quidditch Pitch...which way's the sunset?_

**:::**

**I know…cliché. But I felt that…this needed to be cliché. Besides, cliché or not, I actually enjoy this ending. The next and final chapter will be the epilogue, in case you were wondering.**

**As for Ron in this chapter, I rather liked making him sort of a matchmaker. He's been there all along and it makes sense that he would notice all the stuff going on between them. Besides, despite some other H/Hr shippers, I rather like Ron. I don't think that he was right for Hermione—obviously—but he's not a dope or anything. They just weren't a good match.**

**So I gave him such much deserved glory in this chapter. For once, _he _was the smart one and they were the ones missing things. :D **

**Be sure to leave me plenty of nice reviews.**


	10. 10

**A/N: I wanna start off by saying how amazing all of my reviewers are. You've kept me writing this and, thanks to you, I'm gonna finish it. I really appreciate all the ways you've been supportive and am so glad that you enjoy it. It's been a fun ride, really, but all goods have to end eventually.**

**Also, because I don't wanna put a note at the end, I hope that you all will keep reading my stories (I have a multi-chapter H/Hr pregnancy one that will show up this weekend). And, if you have anything you'd like me to read and review, PM me and I'll be sure to do it.**

**Anyway…**

**Read and enjoy.**

**:::**

_Saturday, year five, hiding behind the broom shed, enemy just around the corner, by the sound of it._

"We can do this."

"I know we can."

"Just…walk out there and take 'em out."

"I know, Harry."

"This is gonna be bad isn't it?"

"Of course not, honey. We'll be fine…there's only three of them. We can do this."

"We _can _do this."

"Are you ready?"

"Yes. And…in case we don't make it out alive…" He leans down and kisses her softly, lingering for a few seconds. "I love you."

She nods at him seriously and kisses him one last time. "I love you too. Now let's do this."

He taps his weapon to hers and presses against the side of the broom shed so he can peek around the corner. "I see them," he tells her. "On three, okay?" She nods. "One…two…three!"

They twist around the corner and raise their weapons, loosing battle cries in unison when the enemy turns to look at them, shock evident on their faces. Without hesitation, Harry and Hermione press the triggers and smile as the ammunition hits their opponents.

"Garrr!" Ron growls as water sprays his face, closing his eyes against the spray from Harry's water gun.

Ginny lifts her own water gun at Hermione, turning her face away from the stream of water from the brunette's gun. Instead of firing, though, she yells, "Now!"

Looking at the redhead in confusion, Hermione watches as a small boy jumps out from behind the nearby apple tree and starts shooting at her. "Jamie!" she yells, unable to fight off her smile as he hits his intended target. Harry stops spraying Ron and looks towards her, eyes wide with dramatized panic. "Don't worry about me!" she tells him. "Save yourself!"

Instead, Harry shakes his head and says, "It's over." He drops his water gun and lifts his hands in surrender. "We give up."

"Victory!" Ginny cries and scoops Jamie up in her arms, spinning around his circles while Ron walks over and hugs them both, jumping up and down. "In your faces!"

"Yeah, yeah," Harry says with a sigh, walking over to Hermione and wrapping his arm around her waist and drawing her close. "Go ahead and mock us in front of our son."

"Oh, we will," Ginny assures him, setting Jamie back on the ground.

"By the way, Harry—" Ron holds up his squirt gun and smirks. "You said muggles made these?" Harry nods. "They're bloody brilliant. I'm gonna have to show my dad."

Ginny smiles after her brother and shrugs at the other two. "I'm gonna go dry off before these clothes become permanently attached to my skin."

Once they've left, Jamie takes a few cautious steps towards his parents. "Aunt Ginny said I had to," he says quietly, clearly afraid of how they'll react to his attacking them.

"Oh, sweetie, it's okay." Hermione kneels down and opens her arms. Jamie steps into them and she picks him up.

"Yeah, you did what you had to do." Harry ruffles a hand through the four-year-old's messy brown hair and kisses his forehead. "Between you and me, Aunt Ginny can be pretty bossy sometimes." Jamie cackles and leans his head down on Hermione's shoulder.

"We should dry off before the guests arrive," Hermione tells her husband and he nods and grabs her hand, leading her into the house.

**:::**

"Ronald was right! This is great!"

Harry watches Arthur Weasley inspect the water gun his son handed to him and smiles a bit to himself as he does. "Thought you might like it."

Arthur looks up at him, eyes wild with excitement. "Oh, I do. Marvelous!"

"Daddy?" Harry feels a tug on his pants and he looks down to see Jamie.

"Hey, buddy." He sits down on the couch beside Arthur and pulls his son to stand in front of him. "I thought you were helping Mommy in the kitchen."

"Grandma told me I had to leave."

Harry frowned. "Why would Grandma Molly do that?"

Jamie shrugs. "I don't know."

"Alright, well I think Uncle Ron was trying to start a game of Quidditch out back. Wanna go with me?" Harry smiles at Jamie's answering nod and stands, picking up the little boy as he does, and swinging him onto his back, heading to their backyard.

"Harry!" Ginny calls from the air as soon as they step out onto the back porch. "Joining us?"

He shakes his head. "I think I'll just watch for now."

Ron laughs from a spot near George on the opposite end of the yard. "Ginny, I think we scared the big, bad professional Quidditch player."

Harry glares at him and lowers Jamie onto the ground while George, Bill, Charlie, and Ginny laugh. "Go beat 'em, Dad," Jamie tells him with a smile.

"Only if you promise to cheer only for me," he answers, leaning down so that they're eye-to-eye.

"I promise."

Harry smiles and slaps his son a high-five before fetching his broom from the broom shed. "I'm coming for you, Weasley," he taunts, mounting the broom and point at Ron as he rises to a spot by Ginny.

Ron just laughs. "Yeah, but you could be talking to any of us."

**:::**

"This _is _the gift table, right?" Hermione glances up from washing her hands and nods. "Good," Luna sighs, setting her gift on the table. "I thought it would be strange to keep a table that held only wrapped up packages for decoration."

Hermione smiles at her and nods before turning to look at Molly. "Cake done, Molly?"

"Just about, dear." The older woman points her wand at the beautifully frosted cake and smiles when frosted words appear on it. "There we go. All done." She pushes the cake towards the corner of the counter and looks to Luna. "Jamie can come back in now. Would you mind fetching him?"

Luna nods and makes as if to leave, but Hermione shakes her head, wiping her hands on a towel by the sink. "I'll get him," she tells her. "I think we might have hurt his feelings when we asked him to leave earlier." She starts to leave and turns back to Luna quickly before she's stepped completely out of the dining room. "Could you or Neville keep an ear out for the door? Draco should be here soon."

Luna nods and turns away, whistling as she inspects the family pictures on the walls in the dining room.

Hermione finds Jamie sitting on the porch stairs and cheering loudly for his father. "There you are," she says with fake exasperation—like she's been looking all over—as she sits down beside him.

"Hi," Jamie says, quieting down immediately and crossing his arms.

"What's wrong?" she asks, even though she knows the answer.

"Nothing."

She frowns and thinks for a moment. "You wanna hear a secret?" Despite himself, Jamie looks at her excitedly and nods. "We only sent you out of the kitchen because we were making your birthday cake," she whispers and his face lights up.

"Really?"

"Really."

"Hey, honey!" They look up and see Harry standing in front of them, his broom slung over shoulder as he tries to catch his breath.

"Hey." She looks him over and frowns at the light sheen of sweat on his face. "Thought you were playing against the others."

"I was, but—" He looks back over his shoulder and she watches the Weasleys touch down on the ground again, looking upset. "—they were no match for my skill."

"No one ever is." She gets to her feet and walks towards him, placing her hands on his chest as she leans up to kiss him. His free hand presses against her cheek and pulls her closer.

"Ew!" The break apart and look at Jamie, who has his hands clapped over his eyes. "Stop!"

"What? Would you rather I kiss you?" Hermione asks. Jamie uncovers his eyes and gives her a confused look. She quickly pulls away from Harry and walks back over to her son, leaning down to hold his face while she covers his cheeks, nose, and forehead with kisses.

"Okay, okay," he manages between giggles.

She stops kissing him and smiles down mischievously. "Do you surrender?"

"I surrender."

"Alright." She kisses his hair and nods towards the back door. "Why don't you go see if Grandma needs any help, okay?"

He nods excitedly and scurries into the house. As the glass door slides open, she's able to hear the faint sounds of a familiar voice drawling out greetings from just inside. "Sounds like Draco's here," she tells Harry when she steps back over to him and resumes her previous position.

"Really?" They see Ginny grin and hurry her steps towards the house. "Draco's here," she repeats, stepping inside.

"Really?" Ron mocks in a high-pitched voice that makes George laugh. "Draco's here.' Honestly!" The last part he says in his normal voice, shaking his head as he does so.

They all head inside, Bill and Charlie taking bets on how long it will take Ron and Draco to start dueling, leaving Harry and Hermione alone for the first time since that morning.

"Now that I have you to myself." Harry sets his broomstick down and cups her face with his hands, kissing her full on the lips.

She closes her eyes and tries to remember how to think when his lips trail down her chin and into the hollow of her neck. After a few more minutes of this, she finally pulls away, worried that someone might come looking for them. "We should go back inside now."

Harry groans. "It's going to be a madhouse in there."

"I know." She shrugs. "But at least it'll be interesting." She grabs his hand and starts to tug him forward, sighing when he resists. "If you're good…" She steps back over to him and leans in next to his ear. "I'll give _you _a present tonight. Okay?" He nods against the side of her head and she draws back and kisses him on the cheek. "Come on."

**:::**

It is, indeed, a madhouse.

Dinner passes in a blur of odd comments and a lot of glaring towards Draco from Ron's end. Once everything is cleared from the table, the cake is brought in—causing the people gathered to sing horribly off-key while Jamie smiles and blows out the candles. After presents are opened, they break off into smaller groups to talk—or glare some more, if you're Ron—and Jamie tries to play with all of his presents at once. Which is, eventually, why he's fast asleep on Neville's lap by 9:00 that night, still wearing the Falmouth Falcons jersey—the one that's made to look exactly like Harry's own jersey—that Ginny bought him—he'd put it on directly after opening it and claimed that he wanted to play Quidditch just like his dad someday.

During the party, Harry and Hermione had alternated between smiling at their son and trying to find a spare moment alone. So, it's really a miracle when Jamie falls asleep. As soon as they've been assured that Neville is fine with keeping an eye on him, they sneak out to their backyard and sit on the edge of the porch, so that they're feet dangle off, just brushing the grass.

"See? That wasn't so bad." Hermione leans her head onto his shoulder and snuggles in when his arm wraps around her.

"Maybe not in Hermione's Secret Magical Happy place, but it was a bit hectic where I was."

"I'm sure you'll survive."

"No promises." He rests his cheek on the top her head and closes his eyes against the summer night all around them. "Jamie got some pretty great stuff."

"Yeah, he did." There's a pause. "He's not using that broom Draco got him, though."

"Why?" he asks, opening his eyes. "It's meant for little kids. It barely goes two feet in the air."

She pulls away from him and looks up at him. "And two feet is far too high for the son of Harry Potter. Just because your childhood was spent on the ragged edge of life, doesn't mean his has to be."

He sighs. "So what do you expect him to do with it?"

She shrugs. "I'll hide it or something," she says nonchalantly. "No big deal."

She leans back against him and Harry smiles. "You're always so good at this," he mutters and she shifts her head on his shoulder.

"Good at what?"

"This being a parent thing. Sometimes I don't think I'm a great Dad."

She lightly hits his arm. "Harry Potter, you are a magnificent father. I couldn't do any of this without you. And, remember the day I went into labor? I freaked out. I might have tried to completely call off having him had it not been for you calming me down," she reminds him and he chuckles at the memory. "Parenting is something you grow into or you don't. And, trust me, you have already."

"Well, yeah, but him being a kid is the easy part, isn't it?" he asks. "James Oliver Potter might be a bit of a hassle as a teenager."

"I think we can handle it," she tells him. She surprises him then by pulling out of his arms and swinging around so that she's straddling his lap.

He smiles at her and ignores how hard it is to breathe when she looks at him like that. "Are you sure?"

"Mhm…" She nods and plays with the neck of his shirt. "It's you and me, remember? We can do anything together. You told me that once."

He leans forward and kisses her slowly for a few seconds before pulling away. "You have a pretty good memory, Mrs. Potter," he says slyly. He leans forward again and lightly nibbles on her ear, smiling when he hears her breath hitch.

"So…I've been…told, Mr.…Potter..." Her arms wrap around his neck, one hand disappearing into his hair.

"And since you have such a great memory…."

"Yes?"

He pulls back and smiles. "Don't you have some sort of present to give me?"

Hermione just smiles and leans in close so that their lips brush together. "I believe I do."

Harry barely has time to think of a response before his wife grabs him and kisses him fervidly. His head starts spinning and he pulls her closer because, even after their 5 years of marriage, she's the only one who can make his heart pound like this.

Which is perfectly fine with him.

_Saturday night, year five, back porch…_

_**The end.**_


End file.
